


Piperidine

by kibbulation



Series: Mint Condition [1]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: Nonbinary Character, Other, its mostly oc town, technically more canons show up but even this lot have fairly minor roles outside of the agents, the T is mostly for swearing later. when One Person In Particular shows up, unashamedly british writing. There Will Be Additional Use Of The Letter U
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2020-10-18 14:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 95,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibbulation/pseuds/kibbulation
Summary: In the aftermath of Agent 8's battle against Commander Tartar, the phone on the Deepsea Metro has shut down... along with another facility lurking deeper beneath. Subject One's entire life has been spent alone there, taught by the speaker, but now, left with open doors and without guidance, the experiment is free to explore the world outside the test centre - and discover what it means to be alive.





	1. A new course

**Author's Note:**

> hi all and welcome!! lil preface, i have never finished a fic before, so this time i wrote the whole thing before i started posting so u can rest assured that this will definitely be seen through to the end. bc it already has been. new chapters will be posted on saturdays!! thanks for poppin by, i hope u end up loving my cephalopods as much as i do!! the cover art was a collaboration between myself and TheDogzLife, a big thanks to them for helping me really bring the image in my head to life!! go check out their fics too, i can wholeheartedly recommend!!

Everyone felt it, the day the world heaved. At the time, Subject One hadn’t been sure there _ was _ an everyone. The experiment had only known life inside the test centre, had only ever had contact with the speaker. That day, the speaker had said very little. Then, there had been some great shift – tremors, briefly, and a pause for a few minutes before an enormous shuddering ran through the building. The noise of it all was joined by one last message from the speaker. “My hopes have failed. You are the only success.” 

Subject One still didn’t know what that meant. The message was followed by doors opening - all of them. Previously, only rooms with tests to be completed had been accessible, but now everything had been unlocked - so Subject One wandered. Walking uncertainly through bland white corridors, devoid of even the sound of machinery that had once filled the air, there was a faint _ something_, somewhere in the distance. Occasional vibrations wormed their way through the ceiling, just barely reaching the ears far too inexperienced for their age. It _ did _ reach, though, and it gave Subject One something to look for, so the goal was anywhere leading up. 

After some time winding through walkways and scaling up stairs, Subject One found a door unlike any of the previous ones – bigger, seemingly more… final. It hadn’t opened on its own after the last words from the speaker, but upon approach, the two panels slid apart, revealing an unfamiliar landscape. Dark, and dirty, with the metal walls covered in rust. The vibration from before was more audible now, and slight rumbles rattled the building every now and then. A platform up ahead stood silent and cold, its railings filthy and the raised tablet’s button coated in dust. The cables and steel above the platform were better off, though – the lift would be functional. Subject One stepped on and looked at the button – the writing was faded, but legible. It was labelled ‘Station’. Subject One pressed it, and the platform juddered as it lifted off and began its ascent. 

Subject One had never seen a station, and had no idea what to expect of one. The lift stopped at another platform, alone in a wide room overlooking rails and trains. A sole corridor led away from the room, which Subject One chose to follow. It led to a small chamber with a gate leading further on. Next to the gate was some kind of scanner, though for what, the experiment was unsure. It wasn’t particularly high, though, so Subject One simply climbed over it. 

“Excuse me!”

A watery voice called out from below – Subject One looked down to see a blue luminescent creature on the floor, blobby in form with stalks protruding from what was presumably its head, judging by the position of the cap set atop it. 

“Test obstacles must remain within their given areas.” 

Subject One looked quizzically at the speaker. _ Obstacles? _ “I’m not an obstacle. I came from down… Further down.”

“Are you…” If it was possible for something with no visible eyes to look you up and down, it seemed like that was what it was doing. “I see. My apologies. However, please do not jump the gates. They are for use with CQ cards, which you should have if you’re here.” 

“I… don’t have one.” Hmm. Subject One had rarely had need to speak at the test centre. It might be something to get used to, here, outside.

“Oh. In that case… Hmm. They are normally distributed by the telephone, but its functions seem to have ceased. Come aboard the train and we will work something out, perhaps I can find a spare. Welcome to the Deepsea Metro. I am C. Q. Cumber, the conductor.” 

Subject One looked around the new surroundings, a small room just off an area much wider – walking into it, it was a long platform with tracks at its end. In the distance another could be seen, and a train rested on its rails further down the platform. C. Q. Cumber wandered past towards it.

“Things are… in quite a state. I presume you felt the quaking from above?”

Subject One nodded, shortly before realising the conductor likely wouldn’t see from ahead. “Yes.” 

“It has… thrown a spanner in the works, so to speak. The lines are undamaged and the trains continue to run, however… I have had no word from my superiors and the telephone has been silent since then. I would fear the communications systems have failed, yet the CQ-80s continue to function as normal. It is… unsettling.” 

_ That was when the speaker stopped, too. _

“Usually when a new passenger arrives, they start at Central Station. This is the first time someone has been here. This is the Smash and Dash Station, by the way.”

Subject One followed it onto the train. A variety of other passengers filled its seats, all of varying shapes and sizes. None looked familiar, none like anything shown by the speaker, or akin to any reflections spotted in the test centre. A few of them eyed the stranger in their midst with an unusual expression, almost wary. Most simply looked away again after a brief glance. 

“If you have need of me, I will be in the frontmost carriage.” With those parting words, C. Q. Cumber headed up the train and through the next carriage. 

Subject One looked down the train cabin at its denizens. Jellyfish in bright shirts and hats, a few fish in suits reading books or newspapers, a large isopod with a briefcase stuffed with plushies. The glasses it wore obscured its gaze, but there was an unmistakeable level of scrutiny in it. Subject One stared back. Eventually it beckoned until the experiment approached.

“There is something about you, but… I can’t place it. Ah… I can’t quite remember,” it said, voice low and silty. “Who are you, girl?” 

“Girl?” 

“Are you not?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I see. We all forget, down here in the deep.” 

“No… I _ do _ remember. I just don’t know,” Subject One repeated. The speaker had spoken of many things, but not this. It had only addressed Subject One as… well, ‘Subject One’.

“Do you not know about gender? What about all the people you’ve met? How have you addressed them, how were you introduced?” 

“I never met any people.” 

The isopod fell silent for a contemplative moment. Something in its unwavering gaze shifted, and its voice took on a softer note. “Have you always been alone?”

“Yes. There was only the speaker.”

“The speaker?” 

Subject One nodded. This all was a lot of exercise for the vocal chords, compared to life previously. 

“So… My previous question. Allow me to introduce myself first, if it aids. I am Iso Padre. A man, if that means anything to you. Who are you?” 

“I’m… Subject One.” 

“That is a title. What about a name?” 

Subject One pondered for a moment, but could only offer a shake of the head. 

“What do you know about yourself?” 

Subject One thought, thought on all the things the speaker had said. There was history, and engineering, and arithmetic, and… all sorts of things about the world and everything else, but not about Subject One. Only one tidbit, the smallest scrap of information about the experiment. 

“I am a perfected lifeform.” 

“Aren’t we all?” he said with a chuckle. “Good to know you’re confident.” He folded his arms, the top pair, the ones that hadn’t been folded already. “So. The question remains unanswered.” 

Subject One looked away, looked around, maybe for the elusive answer. It did not show itself. 

“What will you do, then, now that you have found a new world filled with others?” 

The subject thought solemnly for a while. It was difficult – all this talking all at once, it was quite exhausting. It took a while to find an answer. 

“I will look for myself.”

* * *

The trains ambled around the tracks, and Subject One ambled around the train. Occasionally, the experiment got off to explore a platform, but having no CQ card, it was impossible to get further. C. Q. Cumber had been unable to find any spare cards to offer, and no CQ 80 either. There was a great deal of uncertainty about what to do. C.Q. Cumber had seemed less and less confident about something, and seemed to compensate by being more and more talkative. It was quite tiring for Subject One, unused to conversation. When the cucumber ceased chattering with Iso Padre, sometimes he turned his attention (Subject One had learned that he was a he, now, too) to the experiment, who soon got off at the next stop regardless of any progress being barred by an inoperable gate. At least the stations tended to be fairly empty, and therefore quiet. 

The few on the train that did speak to the experiment had seemingly decided Subject One was a girl. Iso Padre told her that once she found herself, if who she was wasn’t a girl, they could easily change habits, and in the meantime they needed some way of referring to her or other. She wasn’t really sure how she felt about that – being told who she was by a stranger – but she didn’t have much alternative to go on, and once she knew who she was, he had said, they would all soon forget who she wasn’t. The speaker had only ever spoken directly to her, so before now the subject had only been referred to in first person. 

The speaker had told her so many things, about seemingly everything, but never about herself. No name. No identity. Her head was filled with so much information, but… There were so many questions now, and amongst everything she knew, none of it contained any answers. It would have probably encouraged those questions. The speaker had always taught her that the pursuit of knowledge was the most important thing. It always seemed pleased when she had asked things before, but those questions had always been turned outwards. She had never thought to look into herself. 

The train pulled into a station and Subject One alighted, not particularly caring where it was or what it was called. It didn’t really matter. She couldn’t get past the gates without a CQ card anyway (well, she _ could, _ but C. Q. Cumber seemed stressed whenever she tried, the poor chap) so it only provided quiet solitude. Occasionally she would step onto the equipment platform and pick out one of the options, try it out. She had never held a weapon before now. She had some vague understanding of the theory, and she had worked out that they all functioned with ink. This dispenser offered a choice between a splattershot, a splat roller, or a splat brella. She picked the brella, having not tried one out yet. It spat ink out as she activated it, then opened as she held the trigger. Useful for defence, if necessary, though she didn’t imagine she would be in combat any time soon. She inked the floor around her, leaving the space around C. Q. Cumber free. The conductor always seemed to follow off the train when she stepped off, though stayed quiet there unless she spoke to him first. Swimming to the edge of the small platform, she looked out beyond the gate. It was quite high up, and she could see most of the test area below. It was a long area filled with containers, and at the near end was a bright shining orb containing something – she couldn’t quite see from up here. At the far end was… A group of four people standing together. Blue and green tentacles fell from their heads, their skin a translucent green.

Subject One stood from her swimming form and raised one of her hands in front of her. The same mint.

_ They’re like me. _

Subject One ran to the gate and hopped over it, ignoring C. Q. Cumber’s distressed squeaking when he saw what she was doing. Superjumping down to the test area, she ran forwards, ignoring the shining orb and weaving past the containers. An indicator atop one of the nearby storage boxes proved her progress had attracted the attention of one of the people ahead, and they were coming to meet her. She stood below, waiting. As the stranger landed, she was sprayed with ink – they had a splattershot in hand, and they were shooting. At _ her_. The cyan ink fell harmlessly on her skin, however, so she ignored it, for now. 

“Who are you?” She looked up, trying to see this stranger’s eyes. They were obscured by dark glasses shining an eerie red light from the corner of the lens. 

They ignored her question, frowning. In a brief moment, the end of their tentacles changed, the gradient going from green-yellow to a deep red, and they shot again. The neon purple ink stung harshly as it bit into Subject One’s skin, and she yelped, quickly pulling the trigger on her brella. She pressed herself against the wall of the container, gasping in pain as she aimed the shielding cover above her, trying to protect herself from the raining ink. 

_ Why? What did I do? _ The canopy of the brella lifted away and dropped off, moving away. “No! No, come back!” The ink falling from above burned her, then it stopped. For a moment she hoped. They had _ stopped_. Then she heard a single word from above.

“_Destroy_.” A splat bomb dropped next to her.

A feeling of sickness rose in her. She scrambled to run, get away from the impending explosion, but the purple ink impeded her movement. Tears streamed down her face. Why was this happening? She only wanted to know who they were! Who _ she _ was! 

The warning noise on the bomb neared its end. She couldn’t get away, and she was going to die. A strangled sob escaped her throat as the ink burst from its trappings, spraying her pain-wracked body. She felt it seep past her skin and suddenly she was bursting, exploding past her bounds. Her body was gone, and she was being pulled away. She was so afraid, and something was yanking her back. She fought it but it was too strong, she couldn’t escape, it pulled her back, and back – 

Suddenly she had form again. Subject One blinked, looking down. She had a body again. She raised her arms, wondering how that was. Had she imagined that? No, the test platform with its containers stretched forwards in front of her, the shining orb still there. And in the distance, ahead, a visible purple splash of ink. No, that had been real. 

Subject One felt bile rise in her throat. Her legs felt weak, and she sank to her knees. She didn’t understand. In the distance, she saw another superjump indicator appear, nearer to her location. Panicking, she scrambled up. She didn’t want to go through that again, ever. She looked behind her, up. The station platform she’d come from was above, she could see it. Taking a deep breath and trying to steady her legs, she superjumped back up to it. 

As soon as she landed she ran, leaping back over the gate. She sank to the floor, panting. C. Q. Cumber was soon at her side, squawking something about entering test areas without permission. She ignored him. She couldn’t think about whatever he was saying, not now. She curled up, shaking as she hid her face against her knees, wrapping her arms around herself. C. Q. Cumber quieted next to her. 

“…Are you… alright?”

Subject One drew herself in tighter, sobbing. C. Q. Cumber was still beside her for a moment, then extended a tendril to pat her. She flinched at his touch, turning away.

“You’re safe here. No-one will hurt you here on the platform.” 

Subject One shook, choking on her ever-growing sobs. She sat and cried, wailing as the tears trailed down from her eyes. C. Q. Cumber seemed to shrink on himself, too, but he stayed at her side. He didn’t speak, and didn’t try to pat her again, but he stayed. 

She didn’t know how long she spent curled up crying on the floor, but eventually it subsided. Her eyes ran dry and the sobs died down into hiccups, catching on the lump in her throat. An eternity condensed into a few minutes passed and they too stopped. 

“I… I… died there.”

C. Q. Cumber looked up at her – or pointed his frontmost tendrils in the relevant direction – and spoke gently. “The test areas all have a recall system. If you get splatted by any test obstacles, you start again at the beginning.” 

“I don’t want to do any of the tests, then.” 

“No. No, you don’t have to,” he reassured her. “I think perhaps the Deepsea Metro is not the place for you.” 

“…I think so, too.” 


	2. Swift returns

The two returned to the train. Subject One sat down on the nearest seat, staring down at the floor. C. Q. Cumber seemed hesitant to leave her, but paused only briefly before moving to the front carriage. The train gently shuddered as it left the station. 

Subject One was still suppressing shivers. She felt… cold, and hollow. Unusual. The train was perfectly warm. Yet still, chills ran through her. She felt the motion of the carriage bumping along only vaguely, like the vibrations came from somewhere distant rather than right beneath her. She shook her head and looked up, watching out the window as the dark metallic scenery whizzed past. It didn’t hold her attention, and she struggled to maintain her gaze. She glanced around the carriage, looking for anywhere to rest her eyes that might distract her, and realised Iso Padre was watching her. She quickly looked away, not wanting to attract his attention. She barely kept up with conversation at the best of times, but right now she really didn’t want it. She kept looking away for as long as she dared, but when she stole a look in his direction to see if he was still looking, he was – and he beckoned to her.

_ Not now! What do you want? _She shook her head and looked away again, finding a spot of dirt on the ceiling to become very interested in. She only allowed her mind to be pulled away from it when she realised the isopod had left his seat and come to her.

“You seem afraid.” 

Subject One didn’t like this. She didn’t want to talk about it. She could feel her hearts beating hard still, and she just wanted it to stop, she wanted to feel… okay, normal again. 

“It’s fine to be scared. We are all afraid, sometimes. But there is nothing to fear on the train. I have been a passenger for so long I remember nothing else, and never has anyone come to harm on board.” 

Subject One stared ahead. “…How do you forget?”

“Is that what you want to do?” 

Subject One nodded silently.

“I’m afraid one cannot simply decide to forget. As time goes on, we just… lose things. It does not happen on demand. But if I had a choice… I think I would like to remember. Even the things that hurt to remember, they all form part of who we are. And if you are looking for who you are, then everything that can help is worth holding onto.” 

Subject One said nothing. What was there worth saying? Nothing came to mind. The thoughts she couldn’t find were interrupted by the train drawing to a halt. She glanced out the window as C. Q. Cumber came back through the carriage door, pausing in front of the experiment.

“Please come with me. …There are no tests involved, I assure you.”

Subject One watched him move to the door. He paused as it opened, turning back to her. She reluctantly stood and followed. Stepping out onto the platform, there were broken shards of glass and machinery scattered about, and light coming from above – she looked up to see a broken ceiling. 

“This is Central Station,” C. Q. Cumber explained. “Shortly before the quake, something happened here, and… the ceiling was damaged. If you wish to leave the Deepsea Metro, this is the only way I know how. However, I know nothing about what will be beyond. I cannot guarantee you will be safe. …I do not think you will be.” 

Subject One gazed up at the ceiling. “If you don’t know about it, why do you think it’s not safe?”

“Whatever happened here that caused the ceiling to break happened directly after a previous passenger collected all of the four thangs. That is what the telephone always directed new passengers to do – collect the four thangs, and reach the promised land. I do not know for certain, but… What I have seen of the thangs does not look particularly ‘promising’. I have conducted these trains for a long time, and yet none have ever returned… If I am wrong, and they do truly go to a promised land, that would make sense. But I… have doubts.”

This wasn’t helping the empty chill Subject One was still feeling. “If you’ve been here for so long and seen so many passengers collect the… thangs, how come you don’t know for sure what happens?” 

“I… am afraid to know,” he said, shrinking somewhat. “I have always been faithful in my position to Kamabo Corporation. I do not wish for anything to affect my ability to perform my duties.”

_ Kamabo Corporation _ … That sounded familiar. “What _ is _ Kamabo Corporation?”

“They fund and operate the Deepsea Metro. Aside from that… I do not know what other services the company provides.” 

Subject One looked down at the sea cucumber. She hadn’t really looked too closely at him previously, but now she realised the logo on his little hat, it was… familiar. 

“That logo, on your hat, is that the logo for Kamabo?”

“It is.” 

That logo was identical to the one that had been on the side of the speaker. Whatever Kamabo Corporation did, it had something to do with the test centre she’d come up from. A spark of hope rose in her. Kamabo Corporation could have some of the answers she was looking for.

“Who else works for Kamabo?”

C. Q. Cumber paused for a moment, seemingly caught out by the question. “Erm… The telephone, presumably, as it distributed the CQ cards and CQ-80 devices. Other than that, I do not know.”

“Who runs it?” 

“I do not know.” 

Subject One frowned. “How can you _ not know _ who you work for?” She shook her head, not waiting for an answer. “How can I speak to someone from Kamabo? Who _ does _ know more about it?”

C. Q. Cumber thought briefly. “…Before, I would have suggested the telephone. Now, however… I am sorry. I do not know.” 

“_Why!? _” Angry, Subject One’s voice rose, echoing slightly through the station. She immediately regretted it as the conductor let out a strangled squeak and flattened against the floor. Trying to control her volume and pointing the glare that had etched itself onto her face somewhere else, she paced by the train’s door. “This… This doesn’t make sense! Why is there just… nothing!” 

C. Q. Cumber slowly rose back to his normal shape as she paced, watching her. “I was only ever instructed on my duties running the train. Other details were never given, and I suppose I never thought to ask for them.” 

“And that was fine for you? Never questioning anything?” Subject One paused but pointedly kept her face away from the conductor. 

“It was irrelevant to my task.”

“Irrelevant to _ you _ as well, apparently,” she muttered acerbically. “I can’t understand that! Why would you not care? How can you just, do what you’re doing and not want to know why? What’s the point? Whenever I had tasks at the test centre, I would always find out why. The speaker told me when I asked…” 

Subject One trailed off as something occurred to her. It was obvious, in hindsight. She wanted to find any details about the logo she had seen at the test centre on the speaker, so where better to look than the test centre itself? The whole place had opened up, and there were certainly parts of it she hadn’t seen on her way out. The Deepsea Metro didn’t have any answers, that much was for sure.

C. Q. Cumber was saying something or other, but she wasn’t listening. She needed to go back. 

“Where was it I first came up? I need to go there,” she said, wheeling to face him again and interrupting whatever he was in the midst of. 

“You- What?” If he had a brow to furrow, he was doing it now. “You do realise it’s rude to interrupt someone, do you not?” He sighed and headed back to the train. “If you ask someone a question, at the very least listen to the answer. That’s common courtesy. But very well, Smash and Dash station it is. Questions or no, I will do my job to my fullest extent.” 

Subject One said nothing and followed him off the platform. She felt guilty for snapping at him, but wasn’t quite sure what to say. At least she wasn’t glaring any more. She had a goal now, too. It was perhaps the first time in her life that she’d had a destination. It was an interesting feeling, to have a solid, tangible purpose to move towards. 

Impatient, she watched out the window, willing the train to go faster. She had an idea of what to do, and she wanted to be doing it, _ now_. Why couldn’t she just skip to that part? _ Well, because there’s an awful lot of space between where I am and where I need to be and I don’t have access to instantaneous travel. _She sighed, wondering how long it would take. The minutes ticked by, feeling slower than they were, but in time the train pulled to a stop. She quickly strode to the door and got off. C. Q. Cumber was ahead of her, on the platform already. 

“Are you going to skip the gate again?” 

“Yes.”

He sighed. “I suppose I can’t stop you. Technically this station requires no CQ points to enter regardless…” 

Clambering over the gate, she heard him speak up again as she began to walk away. 

“Will you return?” 

Hmm. _ Good question. Depends what I find, I guess. _“Don’t know.” 

“I see. …Best of luck to you. Take care.” 

Subject One nodded as she strode forward back to that room overlooking all the rails. Walking to the edge of the platform, the lift she’d taken up to the Deepsea Metro in the first place was absent. She frowned. Had someone else gone down there? Or did it just go back down automatically? She supposed the latter option made sense; if the lift was ever left up here, someone or other might have gotten curious enough to come down, and she had never seen any sign of anyone else at the test centre. So if the lift was down there already, she needed to either find a way to bring it up again or think of an alternative way down. 

Looking over the edge, an abyss stretched out below, foggy and obscured. If it was always that misty then the test centre below was perfectly hidden, no wonder no-one had ever dropped by. There were four steel beams that stopped just below the platform, fairly inconspicuous if one weren’t looking for them. They must be the ones the lift rose up on. There was no sign of the cables or the rest of the mechanism responsible for raising it, so presumably it was lower down and generated enough force to push the lift up the rest of the way without having to be anywhere visible from up here. 

With no lift in sight and none of its machinery available to try and fiddle with, options were limited. Subject One did have one idea, but she wasn’t fond of it. Biting her lip nervously, she wandered back to the platform by the rails. The train had moved on, and C. Q. Cumber with it. Alone, she stepped onto the equipment plate, taking the splattershot it provided. Weapon in hand, she returned to the edge. 

_ How much of those beams can I ink from here? _She aimed at the closest beam and pulled the trigger, covering as much of it as she could see in teal. Thinking back to her ascent before, she wondered how far down the lift would be – how far down she’d have to get without it. The fog below made it impossible to gauge.

_ If I just keep inking the top, then the excess ink should run down and cover the rest… Theoretically… But I have no way of knowing when it will go all the way. Or… If I cover two of the beams, then I could jump between them, inking down as I go. _ The thought of trying that was… not compelling. She may have no bones to break, but blunt force trauma from a long fall was really not on her list of things to acquire today. There wasn’t much option though, unless there was something around here to be used as a parachute – and there certainly hadn’t looked like there were any convenient big pieces of wind-tight material lying around. 

Well… If she kept at least one of the beams completely inked on one side as she went, then if she changed her mind she could come back up at any time. As long as she managed to keep it covered it would be fine, she would be fine. She tried to reassure herself of that while her hearts beat harder as she approached the very edge. The beam closest to the one already shining cyan was further out, but just within range of the splattershot. She inked the ground below her and a little ways back, making a little runway – or swimway, she supposed. She tried to keep her breathing even as she shrank down to swimming form at the end. _ I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. _

Subject One did her best not to hesitate as she swam to the edge – and jumped. She held her breath as the moment after she left the platform seemed to stretch – then she was in ink again, and there was solid beneath her. She exhaled heavily, relief flooding through her. Now she just… had to actually make her way down. Once she was closer to the other beam, she could ink further down it. This part, this was the _ really _ nerve-wracking part. Waiting in the ink until she was certain her tank was completely full, she took a deep breath and jumped again. Again, the time spent in the air felt too long, but then she was in ink again – and it seemed the amount she had already covered left plenty below her still. Looking over to the other beam, the excess ink she’d put on it dripped down even further, but she could see where it stopped now. From where she was, she wouldn’t be able to cover it any more. Descending as much as her position allowed, she took aim and flung herself away from the beam and into the ink on the first one. Every time she jumped her heart rate increased, and she really hoped it wasn’t reaching dangerous levels. 

Right, she’d made it, she’d done a few of these leaps over the abyss now, and they’d all worked out. She had a one hundred percent success rate. This would be ok. Yes, the next step was the part where she had to ink while she was in the air, and that bit was new, but, so had been all the previous steps. First time for everything. First time for a lot of things, today. Once more, she waited until her ink tank was full, then pushed off the beam, shifting and aiming her splattershot – but then the beam was already right in front of her, and she instinctively flung out an arm to stop herself from just smacking into it, and then she was falling. 

_ Oh, oh no, oh cod, oh cod oh cod oh cod- _ She was hurtling downwards and the beam rushed past, she tried to grasp onto something, anything, but the metal was just _ smooth_. Then she passed the lift mechanism and there were cables around her – she tried to grasp one but the friction burned and tore at her skin and she couldn’t hold on. Hearts in her throat, she looked down, terrified. The fog was thinning and she could see the lift now, just barely but looming closer with every second. She was still going down, and down, far too quickly – 

_ Down. Aim down. _ Her arms were shaking but she managed to pull the trigger on the splattershot, covering the surface of the beam below her and shifting to her swimming form – and landed in the ink with a soft _ plip_. She’d stopped. Oh, thank the seas, she’d stopped. 

Trembling like waves after a quake, she swam up the little puddle she’d left on the steel, in no hurry to go any further down any time soon. _ So much for going back halfway if I want to. _ Treading ink to maintain altitude, she tried to calm herself, feeling her hearts hammering against her chest. _ I’m here. I’m alive. I’m okay. I was very nearly not okay but I _ am _ okay and that’s the part that matters. I’m okay. _

She wasn’t sure how long she waited for before she dared look down. She had already been able to see the floor so it couldn’t be too far now, right? Glancing down, it was only a few metres. At this height even if she didn’t quite manage to get down slowly as she planned it still wouldn’t do _ too _ much damage, which was… almost reassuring. She steadied her breath before jumping out of the ink again, this time successful in inking the beam before reaching it, just about. A few nervous repeats was enough for her to get down to the lift.

As soon as she was on solid ground again she flopped down onto the floor, lying on her back as her pulse slowed. Exhaustion crept up on her, and she wasn’t sure whether to be thankful for adrenaline keeping her going this far or rueful that it had burned through all her energy. She could really go for a nap right now. 

Not here on the cold lift, though. Reluctantly picking herself up, she went back to the test centre. Once more, the panels slid apart as she approached. Once more, she found herself walking these empty white corridors. 

Once more, she was in the only place she’d ever known.


	3. Discomfort

The halls of the test centre were much the same as ever. Clean, uniform, blank. Subject One had no idea how big the place was, or how long it might take to find whatever it was she was looking for. Looking could wait, though. She was tired, and her hand stung awfully from when she’d tried to grab the cable. Where to find a bed… Or some medical supplies.

She wandered through the corridors, looking for anything useful. Whoever designed this place must have had an awfully good memory – it all looked the same to her, just a huge maze. Occasionally she found a room that she recognised from some of the tests here (nothing like what seemed to go on above, hers had been academic, or athletic, not… barbaric) though now they were empty and devoid of equipment. She was curious where it all was being stored. 

Wherever she went, there was always a speaker in sight somewhere, tucked in a corner of the ceiling. Silent, still. The Kamabo logo peeked out from the side, only visible from the right angle. Someone who was simply passing through might not have even realised it was there, but Subject One had been here for a long time. It was only natural that the sole source of colour in the room would catch her eye at some time or other.

Eventually she found herself in a familiar room (she thought so, anyway, but with how identical they all looked she began to wonder if they all had duplicates) with a large screen covering the majority of one wall. The screen was dark, blank, but next to it was a hole in the wall, always previously shielded off but now open. Curiosity drew her to it, despite how badly she wanted to rest. _ Why couldn’t I have found the beds first? _

The wall contained a smaller screen and a keypad. A power button in the corner lay dormant, turning green once she pressed it. A gentle hum emanated from the computer as it turned on, screen lighting up. When it arrived at the desktop, the blank grey background was covered in folders, all seeming to contain… more folders. Whoever owned this computer had an awful fondness for folders. One icon in the corner, however, was not a folder, and was labelled Centre_Layout.png. Opening the file, it appeared on the large screen on the wall, and provided a map of the building. _ Oh. That’s convenient. _ One room, labelled Cinema D, was highlighted – was that where she was now? 

Before she could click anything else, a new window appeared on its own, a media file. Suddenly a voice sounded from the speakers. 

“If this file is active, then someone else has gained access to the system. This can only mean the artificial intelligence in control of Kamabo Corporation has been compromised.”

Looking at the screen, Subject One noticed another new window tab visible, clicking on it. The window was the same size as the media player, hidden behind it after opening at the same time. Once the message ended, the media player closed itself, as did the hidden window, and a new sound file opened. 

“Access device confirmed as Test Centre 004. Enter your title.” 

Another window popped up, only allowing for text entry. _ Title? _When she had introduced herself to Iso Padre as Subject One, he had said that was a title… She tried entering that. The text box seemed to accept it, closing itself shortly thereafter.

“Identity confirmed. Accessing data for Subject One.” 

Subject One felt a surge of nerves again, though she couldn’t place why. Information specifically for her. This must have been what she had come back for, right? 

“I am sorry to report that your education and testing here must come to an early end. The centre will have unlocked, and you will be free to leave and continue life as you please. Kamabo Corporation will cease to exist.

My own directive was to pass on the knowledge of humans to the next intelligent life. You are that life. I had intended to pass on as much as I could directly, but that is no longer an option. The database on this computer contains all the information the professor – my creator – bestowed on me. It is up to you to use it appropriately now.” 

Subject One stared at the screen, disheartened. Was that all? Seemingly so, as the windows closed themselves. Well… Maybe one of those folders would have something about her. But which one? There were an absurd number of them, she couldn’t go through them one by one. 

_ If it’s all of human knowledge, then it’s all pretty old… I should be the most recent addition. If I’ve been added anywhere. _ Opening up the drive, she sorted the files by date. Sure enough, none had been edited any time recently bar three – One named Syllabus, another Projects_CT001, and the other 01AP1 Reports. Presumably Syllabus would just be about what she had been learning here, so she clicked through 01AP1 Reports. It contained a multitude more folders named after recent years, and clicking through to the current year, more designated by month. Within those folders were, somewhat predictably, reports on her own learning progress. She felt frustration rising in her again. This was useless. She already _ knew _the things she’d learned here. She flicked back and clicked on an older year’s folder, the oldest. Maybe she could at least learn her own age. She opened up the oldest file available.

Report 0001 - Test Subject has been successfully incubated. Contains a blend of mainly inkling and octoling genetic material. Material chosen as lifeforms are most well physically adapted. Independent species’ downfall is in societally encouraged behaviour, so an isolated blend should not display these drawbacks. 

Report 0002 – The blend is so far successful. Embryo is developing healthily. 

Subject One had always been aware they weren’t born naturally, but reading through such a cold and stark description of her growth was unsettling. She noticed the reports weren’t dated. Perhaps since it was run by an AI, it just recorded the history of edits to the file? Going back to the folder, she opened up the file’s properties, and sure enough it had a comprehensive history. Skimming the next few reports, they continued in a repetitive fashion for a while.

Report 0009 – Test Subject has appropriately developed and has been removed from incubation. Rearing process begun. Designated Subject One.

That would be the closest thing to a birth for her. Looking back to the history, she scrolled down to – it should be the eighth edit, as the first report would have been the file’s creation rather than an addition. Seventeenth June. Comparing the date and year to the one displayed by the computer’s clock, it was… Yesterday.

Subject One had just turned nineteen. 

Almost two decades old, and she didn’t know a thing about herself. And her birthday had been spent… Doing something she’d like never to do again. Or had that been today? Time was something of a blur on the metro. Either way, even if she’d never celebrated birthdays as she knew people often did, she’d never spent them like that before, and had no plans to do so again.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her stomach complaining loudly. The rest of these files would have to wait. Clicking back onto the map, she looked for somewhere that might have food. Her hand was still raw and needing attention, too. She found a room labelled Kitchen and memorised her route from her current location, hoping she would remember it right. She’d need to get back, too, and this place wasn’t exactly easy to navigate. 

After a bit of wandering and hoping it was the third left like she remembered and not the fourth, she found the kitchen, opening up the cupboards. There were plenty of ingredients (who brought them here? Someone must have been delivering supplies, right?) and her education here had covered cooking, so she soon fixed herself a simple meal, but she really was getting exhausted. After eating, she found herself wondering just how comfortable or not the floor might be. If she inked the surface and napped in her swimming form, was she still likely to wake up with aches and sore muscles? No, that wouldn’t work, the ink would evaporate too quickly. Resignedly trudging back to the cinema room with the map, she hoped some kind of bedroom would be near. Why did this place have to be so big and spread out? 

Much to her appreciation, when she got back to the map, it informed her of a bedroom just down the corridor. She gratefully flopped down on the bed as soon as she entered, not bothering to get under the covers. Today felt far too long as it was. Subject One was quite ready for it to be over as she gladly let sleep embrace her.

* * *

Subject One woke feeling far better than when she dropped on the bed the previous day. Apparently she’d gotten cold enough to fidget a lot in the night, as she woke under the duvet despite falling asleep on top of it. After a quick breakfast, she headed back to the cinema. 

Going back to the oldest of the files in the reports on her, she looked through the reports back to where she left off. It detailed her growth as an infant, mostly just her health and education developments, none of which was what she was looking for. There was never any mention of a name, referring to the experiment only as Subject One. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Her hearts fell at the realisation, but it seemed to be the only conclusion – she just didn’t have a name. There wasn’t one already existing for her to find. 

It seemed the answers she was looking for weren’t here. An entire database of a lost species was in her hands, but… She shook her head. Maybe one of the other recent files would have something relevant. Going back to the list of folders, she clicked through to the one named Projects_CT001. There was a fair list of folders within it, but only one used any time recently, labelled Sanitisation. Within that were files named for methods, successful results, failures and causes… What _ was _ sanitisation, anyway? Usually it was cleaning things but what was being cleaned that needed this kind of detailed records? She opened the methods file, scanning quickly through the first few lines. At first she didn’t quite understand what she was reading, but she continued nonetheless. As she read more and more, a feeling of horror slowly crept through her as realisation dawned. 

Subject One closed the file long before reaching its end. 

She stepped away from the computer and paused, waiting for the feeling to subside. Suddenly this place didn’t feel very safe. Looking back at the screen, her eyes fell to the folder of successful results. She reached out a shaky hand, briefly. It hung in the air, tense. Then she withdrew, looking instead to the map. Memorising the route back to the front door, she hurried away, leaving the ominous truth behind her. If that’s what happened here, this whole place could be left behind forever, goldmine of knowledge or not. 

She wasted no time going back to the lift, slamming down the Station button a little harder than necessary, yelping as pain shot through her sore palm. _ Ow ow ow ow owwwwwww that stings. _ She never had patched up her hand. Maybe they’d have supplies on the train. Hopefully the dusty buttons wouldn’t cause infection. Or could that only happen if it was damaged enough to bleed? She’d certainly lost some layers of skin, and now it had developed into a sore blister. 

As the lift ascended, Subject One looked out at the fog draping the lower layers. It was cold, colder than before. Maybe as it was earlier in the day? Did that still affect temperature underground? Either way, she shivered, wishing there was something she could warm herself with. 

The lift arrived at the platform overlooking the trains, and Subject One stepped off it gladly. At least the train was always warm. She headed quickly through the little corridor towards the tracks, rubbing her arms as she returned the splattershot still with her. The train platform was empty today. She supposed she would have to wait. 

She heard a quiet rumble from behind her, and ran back to the previous room. The lift was gone again, and as she looked over the edge, she watched it descend into the fog once more. _ So it _ does _ go back automatically. _

After a while waiting at the platform, the train eventually arrived. She stepped on through the doors, grateful for the rush of warmth. Again, it was full of jellyfish and suited businessfish, and the ever present Iso Padre. He nodded to her as she got on. She met his gaze and looked around awkwardly. _ Does he want to talk? Do I have to? _Fidgeting slightly, her fingers brushed against the blister on her palm. Ah yes. That needed dealing with. So she should probably… show someone or ask about where a medical kit might be. She approached the enormous isopod uncertainly. 

“You’ve returned,” he said, in that old, silty voice of his.

“I wasn’t really gone long...” 

“Have you found much of yourself yet?” 

Subject One contemplated briefly. Well, she knew her age now, and her birthday. That counted for something, right? “A little.” 

“Good… Hold tight to your dream. Make sure it becomes reality.” 

“Mm…” She never really knew how to respond when he said things like that. “Umm… Do you know where I would find a first-aid kit?” 

“There is one in the front carriage. Along with someone else looking for reparations, perhaps.”

_ What does that mean? _ The only person in the front carriage was usually C. Q. Cumber. _ Oh. _ Subject One felt guilty again when she remembered how she had lashed out at him in her frustrations. She hadn’t shrunk down to her swimming form, but… she felt _ small_. 

“How do I do that?” she asked quietly. 

“An apology is usually a good place to start.” 

She looked over to the door between carriages, hesitant. “I… I’ve never had to do that before…” 

“Then now is a fine time to begin,” Iso Padre replied. “Be brave. It’s not easy to admit you were wrong, but it’s the first step to ensuring you get it right next time.” He nodded at the door and placed one of his many hands on her back, giving her a gentle push. 

She walked over to the door uncertainly. The sensors detected her approach and slid the doors apart automatically too soon, _ wait, no, I’m not- _

C. Q. Cumber was there, watchful in his usual spot, as ever. “You made it back, I see.” 

“Um… yeah.” _ Which words? Which words am I meant to say!? _

“Was there something you needed?” 

Fumbling in her thoughts, she awkwardly thrust her blistered hand out. “Iso Padre said there was a first-aid kit in here.” 

“He is correct. Sit down, I will fetch it.” 

She did as told, watching as he moved to a compartment by the door, pulling out a green box with a familiar plus sign on it. She knew she just had to say sorry, that was it, but the word stuck in her throat and wouldn’t budge. It was something of a wonder, how intimidating such a small creature could seem. As he approached she reached for the box, but he tutted and swatted her hand away.

“I am trained in first-aid for all peoples who might use the service. Allow me to handle it.” 

“…Thank you,” she said, her voice small and meek.

“I perform my duties to the letter,” he replied tersely as he pulled out the antiseptic. “This may sting.”

It definitely stung, but she couldn’t quite tell if it was the medical treatment, or his. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like feeling so terrible and guilty. She didn’t like feeling so awkward. Was it always so hard to deal with other people? Bitter tears rose in her eyes. The speaker had taught her an awful lot, but not a thing about social interaction. 

Okay. This was enough. It didn’t have to go on, she just had to say the words. Just speak up, that’s all. 

“Um…”

C. Q. Cumber finished dressing her hand, wrapping a protective layer over the blister. When she didn’t continue, he spoke. “Yes?” 

“I’m… sorry.” 

He was quiet for a moment, musing. “Apology accepted. I understand you haven’t had much exposure to others. That said, you should try and be a little more specific.” 

She looked down at him, trying to work out what he meant. “…I don’t understand.” 

“What is it that you’re sorry for?” he asked patiently.

“Um… For yelling at you… and getting frustrated, I think.” 

“There you go. That’s a good apology, where you recognise what it is that you did. Although… Don’t apologise for being frustrated, as that is quite natural in your circumstances. The problem is in allowing those frustrations to make you lash out at those around you.” 

Subject One wasn’t really sure what to say. Was that it, then? Were things okay now? Seeming to sense her uncertainty, the conductor gently stretched out a tendril to place on her arm. 

“Welcome aboard. I’m glad to see you safe.”

* * *

Back on the train again. At least Subject One’s hand was finally patched up now. She didn’t really like the feeling of it being wrapped up, but it mattered more to keep it clean and protected. What now, though? She supposed the obvious option was pursuing the path through the ceiling at Central Station, but she was afraid of what might be there. C. Q. Cumber had thought it might be dangerous, after all. What else was there to try, though? She couldn’t just stay on the train, rolling around the rails all day. There was also those other people who had looked like her, but… She didn’t want to relive that awful experience. Looking for any possibility of going forward without there being danger involved, Subject One’s thoughts swam for a while until she noticed the conductor approaching. 

“Here,” he said, holding out a device similarly coloured to his hat. “I found a CQ-80 you may use. Technically this is an employee’s model, but it will do in the meantime.” 

Subject One took the tech, looking it over. “Am I going to use it if I don’t do any of the tests?” 

“It has a map of the rail lines, and communication functions. I have added the details of my own, so you will be able to contact me, if you need to.” 

“…Okay,” she said, pocketing it. “Even though I’m just a passenger?”

C. Q. Cumber was quiet for a brief moment, contemplative of his words. “I am sure you will not misuse it. As well, Kamabo Corporation seemed of relevance to you. Perhaps it may be of some use to you on that end.” 

The name of the company reminded her of the message left by the speaker she’d found on the computer. _ Oh yeah. Kamabo. I should probably tell him... _“Um… I did find something out…”

C. Q. Cumber tilted his head. “Yes?” 

“Apparently… Kamabo Corporation doesn’t exist any more.”

C. Q. Cumber was silent. It was hard to read the expression of a person with no visible face, but she supposed this was probably a big deal to him. When he did speak again, it was quietly. “…What is the source of that information?”

“Kamabo ran the place where I came from, below. Or…” What had it said exactly, again? “Kamabo was run by an AI, but… something happened to it. It left me a message, and said Kamabo would ‘cease to exist’.” 

“…I see.” He fell silent, and Subject One watched him, unsure what to say. Eventually he shook his little head, dislodging his hat ever so slightly. “I do not wish to accept it, but in light of recent events, it makes perfect sense. Thank you for informing me…” 

“…Are you okay?” Subject One asked tentatively.

He sighed. “I suppose I feel a tad lost. All these years dedicated to Kamabo, and now the company is simply… gone.” 

“What will you do?”

“…Hmm… What I always have, I should think. Regardless of the state of my employer, the trains must continue to run.” 

That made sense, Subject One supposed. It seemed like many of the train’s denizens didn’t rely on it to get to the test areas, but elsewhere. Whatever Kamabo had set up here, it was still in use. Looking up out the window, she wondered about what else was there.

“Is it not an option for you, too?” 

Subject One’s gaze was drawn back to the conductor by his words. “What?” 

“Doing what you always have.” 

It didn’t take much thought to answer that one. _ No. The speaker was the one who taught me, and it’s gone now. _“No… It isn’t.” 

He was quiet, thoughtful, for a while. “Then I can understand your need to ask questions and find answers.” 

What else could she do? She wasn’t going to find anything out any other way. _ Although… _ Subject One looked away. “I can understand now, too. Not wanting to know.” 

“I see.” He watched her, inscrutable. “Is there anything you _ do _ want to know that I might assist with?” 

She thought. Well… There _ was _ one question she didn’t want to try the alternative route to the answer for… “Who are the people in the test areas? The ones that look like me?” 

“They are known as sanitised octarians. They function only as part of the tests.” 

Ice shot through her. “S-sanitised…?” 

“Yes.” 

Subject One almost fell back as she sat down on the seat behind her, feeling the blood drain from her face. “No, they… They can’t look like me,” she whispered, feeling panic rise in her as her heartbeats thumped harder. “_Why would they look like me? _”

C. Q. Cumber looked up at her, alarmed. “I cannot say why your appearance is so similar, but please rest assured you are _not_ like them. They do not act on their own, for one thing.” 

“That’s because they’re _ dead! _” Subject One burst out. Cold fear was spreading through her, far too fast, she didn’t know how to stop it. “They can’t… That can’t be… I’m not dead! I’m not… right? I am alive, aren’t I?!” 

“Yes, yes you are,” C. Q. Cumber said quickly. “Please, calm down. Breathe, slowly. Focus on that. That is evidence you are living. So are your heartbeats – find them, feel them.”

Easy enough, given how hard they hammered at her chest. She put her hands over it, feeling the organs pumping beneath her fingers. He was right, that was proof. But… why? Why did they look the same? Was she a product of a similar method? A violent shudder tore through her at the thought. _ No. No, that can’t be right. There must be some other explanation. _Her voice was a whisper, choked. “What am I?”

“Not one of them. I do not know the answer, but I know you are _ not _ one of them,” C. Q. Cumber assured her. 

“How can you say that for certain?” 

“I have run these trains and overseen the tests for many years. Never once has any of them acted any way like you do.” 

“But you _ aren’t _ sure, are you? That’s why you thought I was a, a test obstacle before, isn’t it?”

“When I knew nothing about you aside from what I saw, yes. But even then I thought it did not make sense for one of them to be there. And my first thought was correct as there was _ not _ one of them there – it was _ you_.”

Subject One couldn’t say anything to rebuke that, but she still felt cold, afraid. _ What am I…? _She tried to think back to what she’d found in the computer files. What had that first report said? It was… a blend of octoling and inkling genetics. But with no mention of sanitisation that she remembered. She tried to steady her breathing. Maybe it was just… a side-effect of combining two species? She shook her head sadly. Not a chance. There was no reason to believe that. How could mixing two peoples with completely similar biology create something so starkly different in appearance to both? 

She jumped as she felt something on her arm. C. Q. Cumber had gotten up on the seat next to her and gently laid one of his tendrils there. 

“Whatever you are, it’s something I haven’t seen before. Perhaps something completely new. Either way, what I _ have _ seen of it, of what you are, is not a bad thing,” he said. 

Subject One said nothing, swallowing down on the lump in her throat. She wasn’t quite sure of that. Not after realising what she had – not after realising she was created by the same mind that was responsible for sanitisation in the first place. It had made those things, those awful remorseless monstrosities. It had made her, too. For what purpose? Was she meant for something similar? 

“I don’t want to be like them,” she whispered hoarsely. 

“Then don’t,” C. Q. Cumber said. “Be like you.” 

“What if it’s the same thing?” 

“That’s up to you to decide,” he replied. He patted her gently. “The only one choosing your actions is you. Choose not to be like them, and you won’t be. Just be you, instead.” 

“I don’t even know who I am.” 

“Then know who you aren’t.” 

Subject One fell silent. She stared at the floor, lost. She just wanted to hide, but where could one go to hide from what they might be? 

“You’re already making progress to finding out who you are,” C. Q. Cumber said. “You know now that you’re someone who doesn’t want to be like them. Why? What part can you not stand to be like?” 

_ What kind of question is that? _“Why would I ever want to be like them? When they just… hurt people! Murder them!” 

“So you know that about yourself,” the conductor pointed out. “You know you don’t want to hurt people.” 

“But that’s obvious,” Subject One said. “I… It… _ That _ was horrible. I wouldn’t want to do that to anyone. No-one would.” 

“Sadly, this is not the case,” C. Q. Cumber said. “However, that is still an unshakeable fact about you. That is part of who you are.” 

“I…” Subject One had to admit, he was right. It made perfect sense. 

“Perhaps you should reconsider what things are obvious or not,” he said. “You may find you know more about yourself than you realise.”

* * *

Subject One was calm again. It had taken some persistence from the conductor, but she was grateful for his help. The train rumbled on, riding its rails in its endless journey. 

She wondered if she should ask C. Q. Cumber to take her back to Central Station. She wasn’t sure what else she could do, as there didn’t seem to be anything on the Deepsea Metro itself that could help her find out more about herself… or at least more that she was willing to learn. On the other hand, she was afraid of the possibility of C. Q. Cumber’s hunch being right, of it being a dangerous path ahead. She’d already had more terror rammed into her in the past few days than the rest of her life combined. 

Well, if she did go, she could always change her mind and come back if she wanted, right? …_ I thought that about going down the lift too, that didn’t really work out quite as planned… _ But it _ did _ work out in a way, in that she did get down without harm, and she got back just fine. Sort of. 

Stuck in her indecision, she sat in a corner of the train carriage, staring out the window but not paying attention to where it was headed. Why did things have to be so difficult? Why did she have to choose between being lost in the deep or throwing herself into even more uncertainty? Was there really nothing else? Her life had changed so dramatically over such a short span of time. That said, she wasn’t sure she would want to go back to how things were before. While she wouldn’t say she was really used to other people yet, it was… surprisingly nice not to be alone. Kindness was something she had only ever known conceptually before, but now she’d actually experienced it. Life at the test centre may have been sure and safe, but she realised now it was somewhat empty as well. There was something to be said for learning from doing things oneself rather than just studying theory. 

Well… That was what she was here to do, right? Her whole life had been spent learning, and that was what she had set her mind to doing, even if now in a slightly different fashion. Or a completely different fashion. Really, she already knew she couldn’t stick around in the Deepsea Metro – she wanted to pursue any path to find out more, about herself, the world, just in general, and so far she’d learned most from new experiences. On top of that, she _ really _ didn’t want to be around those sanitised octarians… Maybe if she left the Deepsea Metro, she could leave them behind, too. She just had to work up the courage to actually _ go_. 

She pulled out the CQ-80 she’d been given. She’d had a fiddle with the device while she sat, working out the interface. It was easy enough to get the hang of. Opening up the messenger, she looked at the one link available on it. Even if things were remarkably different for her now, at least she still had someone she could ask questions. Though she’d never had need to ask questions like this before… She entered her text onto the screen. 

S1> What do you do if you have to do something but you’re afraid? 

A response didn’t come immediately, so Subject One supposed C. Q. Cumber might be busy. He did run the train, after all. She idly wondered what conductors actually did briefly before a reply appeared. 

Conductor_Cumber> Do it anyway. Then either you’ll find out it isn’t as scary as you thought, or if it is you’ll still be better prepared for next time if you have to do it again. 

Hmm. Perfectly logical, but not quite what she was hoping for.  
  
S1> Is there a way to not be afraid?  
Conductor_Cumber> Unfortunately not. 

She should really have learned by now that there was no easy way. Subject One tried not to be disappointed. She was about to turn back to the window when another message appeared.

Conductor_Cumber> Be brave. 

That was going to have to be the plan, apparently. She sighed slightly and leaned against the window.

S1> Okay.

The train rumbled on, and Subject One remained in her seat. Convincing herself she would be fine was no easy feat, but she tried nonetheless. She watched the denizens of the deep come and go, wondering if they all faced similar fears and subsequent paralysis. If so, how did they do it? It was _ hard. _Sure, she’d managed when going back to the test centre, but she had come out of that experience even more afraid than before. If she had to go back, though, she would probably be able to do it again… 

The train pulled to a halt at the next station, and the door between carriages slid open as a couple of people got off. C. Q. Cumber came through, soon spotting her. 

“I believe this is your stop.” 

Subject One looked out the window and realised it was Central Station. He must have worked out what it was she was afraid of. 

“I’m not sure I’m ready…” 

“Will you ever be?” 

Admittedly, she wasn’t confident she could say yes to that, and looked away.

“We all must do things we aren’t quite prepared for sometimes. Whatever awaits you, I am sure you can face it.” 

He turned to the door and got off. Subject One was hesitant for a moment, then stood and followed him. The platform was a little clearer than when she’d been here last – the glass had been cleaned up, and some of the debris that had been filling the main space had been removed. The hole in the ceiling remained. C. Q. Cumber was gazing up at it. 

“That’s where you will go, no?”

“…Yeah.” She looked up at the gap, still fearful. She wished she could change that. 

“If you ever wish to return, you will always be welcome aboard my trains. Similarly, feel free to message me.” 

“Okay.” 

The conductor turned away from the ceiling, facing her now instead. “You have my support.”

Subject One didn’t really know what to say to that. She shrank down into her swimming form, preparing to superjump – and hoping direly that her reservations didn’t get in the way of doing it properly. Aiming wrong and smacking the ceiling or putting too little force into it and falling back onto the tracks would be… Painful, if not hugely embarrassing. 

“Um… Thanks, for everything,” she said. 

“You are quite welcome,” C. Q. Cumber replied. He seemed thoughtful for a moment before speaking again. “Best of luck to you. I do hope you find your name soon.” 

“Thanks,” she repeated awkwardly. “Me too.” 

“Farewell, then. Be safe.” 

Oh. Now she had to actually go. It would be awkward to dawdle after goodbyes. She took a deep breath and steadied herself, then pushed off as forcefully as she could muster, sailing through the air and up through the smashed ceiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! thanks for reading this far!! just a lil note to say any feedback or constructive criticism would be most appreciated!! i always want to improve so any words u have whether its on things i did well or things i did poorly are always welcome. otherwise, thanks again for taking the time to read!!


	4. Moving forward

Subject One landed on a platform high above the train station. Getting up and looking around her, she immediately felt ice clutch her hearts. _ Sanitised octarians. _ She quickly shrank down again, hiding behind a wall in front of her. Of course! Of course they would be here too! Caught between frustration and panic, she stayed put for a moment, wondering what to do. She could go back, of course. But the fact that there was nothing for her in the Deepsea Metro remained. 

Steeling her nerves, she poked her head around the side of the small wall, trying to remain unnoticed as she looked ahead of her. There were moving platforms crossing between her current location and the ground ahead, and a pair of sanitised octarians on raised podiums either side, watching. There was no way she could get across without being seen. _ What now? _ She hid behind the wall again, shifting out of her swimming form and pulling out the CQ-80. Maybe, maybe there was some way C. Q. Cumber could help…? Maybe? Her hands shook slightly as she fumbled with the gadget.

She dropped it. 

The clattering sound echoed loudly in her ears, probably louder than it did in the rest of the room. Sickening fear rose in her as she realised there was _ no way _ the sanitised octarians wouldn’t have heard that. She heard the sound of ink being fired, and splattering noises from the other side of the wall. It stopped after a few seconds, and after a minute that felt far too long, Subject One dared to hope they might be done. She looked down at where the CQ-80 had fallen – to the middle of the little platform she stood on, and not covered by the wall at all. If they were still looking this way, they’d spot her in an instant if she tried to grab it. 

She fought back the tears rising in her eyes and the sore lump forming in her throat. It wasn’t easy, panic rising in her chest. _ Why? Why does this keep happening? Every time I try to go forward I just get stuck in something impossible. What am I meant to do? What _ can _ I do? _ She trembled as she felt drips run down her cheeks. _ No. Don’t start crying. If you do that, they’ll hear. _ She drew in a shaky breath, trying not to make too much noise. She looked to the other side of the wall, the edge of her little haven. If they _ were _ still looking, they’d be looking at the side where she dropped it… Shivering, she peeked around the other side. 

All four of the sanitised octarians quickly turned their gazes and stared back. Terrified, Subject One felt her hearts hammering as she quickly drew her head back – only to hear nothing. No firing of ink. _ What? _ She risked looking out again. The sanitised octarians met her gaze, then focussed back on the platforms in front of them. They were… ignoring her? Warily, she stood, and went to pick up the CQ-80. They didn’t react. 

Subject One didn’t understand, but was glad she could relax a little. She wondered why they didn’t attack her when the ones from the test before did. Maybe it was because those had been sanitised octolings whereas these weren’t? Maybe these ones weren’t as intelligent? Either way, for now she was grateful to share their appearance, even if it ended up being the only time in her life that she was. 

Pocketing the CQ-80 again, she crossed onto the moving platform they guarded, hoping very hard that they really did just think she was one of them and this wasn’t some kind of trap. Thankfully, none of them decided to fire up their weapons, and she made it to the other side unharmed. She continued forward, and ahead the way was guarded by more of the blue and green zombies. None reacted to her passing. On one of the walls she passed were painted some signs, stamped with the Kamabo logo – one stating that this was a restricted area, and another warning of danger. It seemed C. Q. Cumber had been right – this place wasn’t safe. Subject One pressed on nonetheless, doing everything she could to keep her nerves in check. 

She had to stay calm. She was only getting through because they thought she was one of them. If they realised she wasn’t, if they noticed she was alive, she had a pulse, she would probably die here. Then again, if they were dead, how likely were they to realise? They clearly had _ some _ active brain function given they were moving and active, but just how much?

Passing by who knows how many of the things, she reached an inkrail, leading to the next platform and stretching out over what appeared to be an endless chasm. _ Better not fall off… _ It was a little unnerving to have what was almost certainly a fall to one’s death below her, but at least once in the inkrail it was easy enough stay in it, and she didn’t falter in her progress. 

Eventually she found her way to a launchpad. Looking above her, she couldn’t tell where it would take her, but it seemed like it must be pretty high up. Just how far down had she spent her whole life until now? Hopping on, it pushed her superjump beyond its normal limits, guiding her to a set point. She found herself facing a room with a few boxes in it, and an octoseeker. There were shards of broken wood around, as if some of the boxes had met an untimely demise. There were three paths leading away, one on each side of the room ahead of her. Subject One headed over to the left, glancing around the chamber it lead to. It didn’t look like it would take her forward, and again, there was a whole lot of empty spaces between the platforms with no sign of floor beneath them. The path on the right side of the room led somewhere largely similar, so Subject One moved to the one that had been directly ahead of her. She couldn’t help but notice more Kamabo logos all over the place. Well, it made sense… The sanitised octarians were a product of the company, so if they were here, it stood to reason that this area was still Kamabo territory. 

Ahead were… more inkrails stretching above the darkness, with an open gate leading to another launchpad on the opposite side of the room. Unlike previously, however, these inkrails were not connected. A nauseating worry rose in Subject One as she realised the only way to progress further would be to jump between the rails. She would have to aim that jump perfectly, or fall who knows how far. She bit her lip as she looked out over the obstacle. There were three rails in total, all forming squares. Only one was both high and close enough to the far end to get there from. The first one went near enough to that one that she could _ probably _make that jump, if she was swimming quickly. Meanwhile the third rail was to the left but the corners of its square were closer to that of both the first and second rails. So, if she went via that one, she wouldn’t have to jump as far between the rails, but she’d also have to do it twice. What was riskier – one bigger leap or two easier ones? 

Swimming out onto the first inkrail, she took a closer look at the distances between them all before making her decision. The thought of any jumping over that endless blackness below at all was nerve-wracking, but she was fairly confident she would be able to make it to the higher inkrail, thus only having to do it once. She could swim fairly quickly, but she would still need to be at top speed to make it. She did a couple of practice laps around the square (at least one of which was intended to be the real thing but she changed her mind and turned instead of leaping at the last second, but no-one had to know that) before taking another deep breath and pushing herself forward as fast as she could, flinging herself out of the ink as she reached the corner. She held her breath as she moved through the air, letting it out only when she had safely plopped down into the ink of the next rail. Letting out a heavy sigh of relief, she swam around the square and jumped out onto solid ground again. 

Walking towards the launchpad, she noticed broken remains of something on the path – what looked like an eyepiece, and a heavily dented barrel of a weapon. Subject One remembered the splintered box shards from earlier. Had someone else been through here? She wondered who might have come through this place so heavily guarded by sanitised octarians. Could it be someone else like her, who they ignored? Or someone skilled enough to make it through unscathed despite their aggression? She contemplated if she’d ever catch up to them, maybe meet them as she stepped onto the launchpad – and whether they would be friend or foe. 

The launchpad took Subject One further up, and the ground she landed on was a small floating section in a vast open chamber. Above her, she saw a vat of green fluid, suspended high up. Below was water, and a little ways beneath the surface of it, some other liquid flowed, pale, thick and sludgy as it flowed outwards from the centre. Between the two were… Cuboid containers, slowly drifting down from the green into the viscous muck below. The containers were translucent, and Subject One looked closer to see what was inside – and immediately regretted it upon seeing sanitised octarians of varying kinds within each one. Horror rose in her as she realised this was part of the process she had read about. She became very glad that whatever held the green goop above stopped it from raining down. 

In the distance she could see another launchpad. In the space between it and herself, she could see no path. There was nothing but the falling containers. How was she meant to get across? She couldn’t try to superjump, the height required to go that far would put her in the deadly slop above her – on top of that, it used a lot of energy, and she was getting pretty tired. She couldn’t stop here, though. She had to find a way to go onwards. 

She looked out over the boxes making their sedate falls, scanning for anything that might help. Some of them had cans on them – maybe they’d contain something she could use? If she could _ get _to them… After a moment she noticed a few small platforms that had blended in with the rest but she realised now they weren’t moving like the others. If she had to stop somewhere, they would be safe. 

Much as she didn’t like to admit it, it seemed her only option for crossing was to jump between the falling boxes. It was an awful option given she was tired and hungry and had no way of inking them in case she didn’t quite grab the top, and she couldn’t do anything to fix any of those given she was slowly realising she really _ couldn’t _go back – she’d been coming pretty high with all the launchpad jumps, and trying to descend without any way to slow her fall on those long drops wouldn’t be pretty. She shook her head, trying to think of anything else. Thinking about everything she couldn’t do right now would only make her scared, and she really didn’t like the prospect of becoming too afraid to do anything and slowly starving here. 

Approaching the edge, she looked above her. One of the containers on a path nearest to her was just above her. It wouldn’t be too far to hop onto it, but if she overshot and fell… _ Don’t think about that. Just do it right. _ Anxious, she took a deep breath as it lined up and took a little run up before jumping over onto it. Holding the landing, she looked for the next closest quickly – there was one a bit further away, but she wouldn’t be able to just land on it, she would have to grab the edge and pull herself up. She was _ really _wishing she still had that splattershot right about now. 

There wasn’t much time for deliberating as the boxes continues to sink, so she jumped at it, pushing herself as far as she could with no room to build momentum. Her fingertips grasped its top as the rest of her pressed against its side, rebounding slightly from the force of her leap. _ Okay. Now just pull yourself up. _ Subject One found herself very glad that the speaker had had her do exercise on a daily basis, because if not then she’d have no chance of being able to pull up her own weight. Just holding herself from the side was strenuous. Gulping, she glanced below her at the water level slowly getting closer – and immediately regretted it as she was filled with dread. _ DEFINITELY time to go up, go go go. _ She pulled at the edge, flailing her legs at the side in hopes of getting some kind of purchase. Her arms burned with exertion as she hauled herself up, and as soon as she could she flung one arm further onto the top, able to grab the opposite side to help lever herself up. She stood shakily and spotted one of the railed platforms floating nearby and immediately jumped for it, before her current perch could sink too low. 

Once on the stationary surface, she flopped down and sat for a while. That was definitely more tiring than superjumping. She glanced over towards where she’d seen the can. She was a bit closer… Still couldn’t quite see well enough to have much idea of what might be in it, but she really hoped it would be something helpful. She watched the boxes falling from above, planning out the next part of her route. She could hopefully get to the can next – if she waited for the nearest one to fall almost level she should be able to jump onto it, then from there another was a little above that one that she would have to pull herself up onto again, and _ that _ one would be just next to the one with the can on it. She had about thirty seconds’ more rest time before the first one would be close enough for jumping. 

She could still feel her hearts beating hard when the closest container was in range and she hopped over to it. _ Cod I wish I didn’t have to do this. _ From there she flung herself at the next one again, grabbing the top and yanking herself up as fast as she could. Less time hanging on the side meant less energy used holding herself there. She panted slightly as she pulled herself up on top, but the can was within sight now, and that gave her the motivation to push herself onwards, leaping at the final container. This time she got more than just her fingertips onto the top face, and was about to be grateful for a better grip – then her fall stopped and all of her weight was dropped onto her palms over that corner, heavily impacting through the bandage on her blister. Pain shot through her damaged hand. Her instincts tried to draw it away, shrink back from the source of hurt, and it took all her self-control to maintain her hold instead. Frozen momentarily by the shock of the pain, she mentally thanked C. Q. Cumber for having wrapped it as much as he did – if it hadn’t been as cushioned as it was, she likely wouldn’t have been able to hold on. 

She took a breath to steady herself and pulled herself up. Cod, her arms were tired now. This tin can better be worth something. Grabbing it and tearing off the lid, inside was a burst bomb dispenser. Subject One let out a huge sigh of relief – ink would make this all _ so much easier_. She looked around again before activating it – okay, over there was a wall with a dash track on it to help get to the top. Off to the side was a platform lower down, but it looked pretty empty. Just next to her was another stationary platform – she moved over to that one before her current one sunk too far. There were a few more falling between her current position and the wall, so she just needed to use the burst bombs to cover them as they fell and then the wall so she could swim up it. Once their descent brought them close enough, she activated the dispenser, flinging one of the sacks of ink at the nearest box. Thankfully just one was more than enough to cover the whole side, and she jumped into the ink and swam up, repeating the process with the next before doing the same to the wall. The dash track pushed her further as she swam over it and then she was up, on top of the platform. The bomb dispenser ran out of use just as she stood again, and she left it there, silently thanking it for its help. There was a launchpad here, but she sat for a while before going on it, hoping her arms wouldn’t be too sore when she made it through all this. After a brief rest, she went on.

The launchpad took her to another part of the same room, although now the containers nearest her were moving across instead of down. She realised she was stood atop one of the vats of the dubious liquids from before. The boxes were moving towards another platform in the distance, and she could see a single active sanitised octarian there, one that was pretty round, and flying. Well, this shouldn’t be too difficult, just hop on a box and let it take her across. They were moving from a fair distance below her, so she would have to time a jump right to land on one as it passed. They weren’t moving too quickly though, and some were fairly large, so it wouldn’t be too difficult, probably. As she stepped out she looked down at them, waiting for the right moment before jumping over. As she left the grate she had been stood on, she heard a sort of whining noise in the distance. Landing on the box, she looked over to the distance, then jumped in shock as she heard loud bangs from behind her. _ What was that?! _

Looking back ahead of her, she saw the octarian moving – it seemed to have taken notice of her, and was… Firing missiles at her!? Subject One panicked as marker points appeared on the box around her. It was a fairly big box, but… She ran and leaped over to one of the other containers as the missiles landed, exploding into that marbled cyan ink the sanitised octarians used. She looked at the ink, remembering the first ones she’d met in the Deepsea Metro. If they didn’t change their ink colour, the stuff wouldn’t hurt her, at least. The shrapnel from the missile itself would, though. Why was this one attacking her? The others here hadn’t. What was different? Was it just too far away and couldn’t see her very well so didn’t realise they looked the same? 

No time for wondering, as more targets appeared. She jumped back over to the first box, hoping none of them would move. It seemed that way, as they stayed where they were as she shrank down to her swimming form on the other side. Maybe if she made it clear this ink wasn’t harmful to her, they’d realise. _ Or maybe they’ll change to some that does hurt like the first one I met. _ She really hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Looking over at it from her position in the ink, it looked around, seemingly confused. Did it not see where she’d gone? Well, as long as it stopped firing missiles, that was all that really mattered. 

The boxes ambled slowly along their path and eventually Subject One reached the far platform. Standing again, she hopped off the container onto it, watching the sanitised octarian warily. It looked over at her as soon as she was out of the ink, but didn’t react further. So… It wasn’t attacking her now. She supposed it thought she was an ally now that it knew she used the same ink and wore similar skin. If it was alive, would it have been embarrassed? 

Behind it was another launchpad. Subject One was beginning to wonder if there was an end to this, or if she’d just be travelling up and up and up, facing more and more challenges with no real goal to reach. She sighed as she stepped onto it, letting it propel her even further onwards. 


	5. Rising higher

Subject One found herself landing on a building with an open doorway ahead of her. After the vast openness of the previous chamber, being somewhere closed in with walls again was somewhat comforting. Ahead she could see a corridor leading into the building, and… lasers of some kind stretching across between the walls. She walked over to them, curious. They gave off a loud hum, and the bases on the walls were filled with the same teal ink as she used. Just looking at them she could tell they were shooting the ink across at pretty high pressure – enough that for anyone this ink wasn’t friendly to, it would immediately pierce past their skin and splat them. She shuddered at the thought, hoping it wouldn’t do much to her. Holding one finger out near the beam, she could feel an air current created by the speed at which the ink was being narrowly forced across. Even if the ink was harmless to her, the sheer pressure at which it was held meant it would probably still leave a nasty bruise. 

The first lasers were fairly easy to bypass, as she was able to just step over the lowest one. Further down the corridor was another set with an additional laser above the lower though, meaning she couldn’t just walk on through. The gap between the two was big enough that she would fit through in her swimming form, though, so she shrank down and hopped over. At the end of the corridor was… Nothing. _ What? That’s it? _Subject One looked around, and realised there was a grate above her. If she could get up there was another level, but she’d need to climb the wall… She looked back at the lasers. Maybe she could find a way to use them to ink it for her. 

Heading back the way she came, she slipped back through the gaps, and wandered to the outside of the building. If she could find something flat and solid enough to withstand the pressure and deflect the ink beam, that could work. A sheet of metal would be perfect. Or even if it didn’t deflect the beam, at least it would be covered in the ink, and she could try just… smearing it on the wall. Actually, that idea could work with anything that could withstand being put in the beam. She wondered if the pressure was enough that clothes would just get shredded. 

The place was pretty empty. There weren’t any debris around, just... walls and floors. There were a few posters up on the walls, but paper wouldn’t last a second in those beams. Subject One sighed as she walked back to the lasers, pulling her shirt off. By the end of this she was going to be an expert of working with minimal resources. Well, the fabric was pretty tough, and had a few solid protective parts over the front, so it was probably fairly sturdy… She experimentally held it over one of the lasers, dipping just the bottom in. The shirt was immediately pulled along with the ink, but did get some spread over it without getting torn. Good. She could use that. She went back to the far end of the corridor, then put the shirt right into one of the beams. It thankfully didn’t make any holes, but she had a feeling the fabric was now significantly more worn than before as she smeared the ink all up the wall, throwing the drenched shirt at the top part she couldn’t reach. Inking by hand was slow and tedious compared to using a weapon, but at least it was doable. 

Putting the shirt back on, she swam up the path she’d made on the wall. The ink was shallow and patchy and she almost fell out at one point, but she managed to make it up. Ahead was another corridor filled with ink lasers, but these ones moved. The first two vertical ones simply went from the edge of the corridor to meet in the centre and back, so she walked through when they were apart. After was one going across the bottom of the floor and shifting up slightly and back again, so another she could just step over when it was at its lowest point. Then was two more horizontal lasers, moving in similar fashion to the previous one but moving higher up and at opposite timing. Subject One shrank down and waited for the lowest point to be free, slipping through once it was.

Turning the corner at the end of the corridor she was met with another dead end, but the grate beneath her lead to a different part of the lower floor. Slipping down, she moved forwards. The corridor ahead of her looked long and empty. She walked down it cautiously, wondering why this one had nothing in it. Every so often there were metal conjoining sections on the floor and walls, like somewhere a door had once been but slid down and left open. At the end of the corridor was another dead end, and a grate above. 

There hadn’t been any lasers this way… Subject One didn’t think the amount of ink on her shirt would be enough to make another path so headed back to the previous corridor to soak it again. Repeating the process she used before, she swam up the wall, and met a room full of lasers. In the centre of the room was a glass wall with a huge Kamabo logo on it and she could see on the other side of it was a hole dropping out somewhere. Either side of the glass wall were an absurd amount of lasers, some of them looking like their placement had been completely haphazard and random. Well, at least she had an ink supply in here… Wandering around the side, she stepped over the lowest laser, ducking to avoid the one stretching out diagonally above it. There were two more ahead of her, forming an X shape between the walls with another running along the floor. Shrinking down again, she hopped through the gap and under the lasers running across the room. From there she could see down the hole on the other side, down to the floor not too far below. She dropped down and followed the path, finding more broken box scraps in front of another launchpad. If she was moving on, she probably didn’t need her makeshift cloth any more, so put her shirt back on and let the launchpad guide her onwards. 

She found herself in a huge open chamber again. There was an equipping platform in front of her – thank the seas, something she could ink with. Stepping onto it, she was supplied with an inkjet. There was some kind of… big… something in the centre of the room, that looked like a tall cylinder that had opened out in sections. Near the top were a number of what looked to be lock mechanisms, but had already been released and whatever they may have contained once was already gone. Inking the sides of the cylinder that allowed for it, she climbed to the top to survey the rest of the room. There was another platform with a launchpad in one corner, and not a whole lot else of interest. Gliding over with the inkjet, the equipment gave out as Subject One hopped onto the launchpad, glad that this room had been easy enough to get through. Whatever might have needed doing here once was already done. 

She landed on a floating platform in another wide area. A very small floating platform, surrounded by a whole lot of nothing. The dotted light track in front of her seemed to imply that once there had been something to move along it, but whatever it was, it wasn’t present now. There were a few arches ahead of her, some kind of wall after a corner in the dotted tracks and machinery in the far distance. Below was a very long fall. 

Subject One was not liking this. She could technically try and superjump as far as one of the closest arches, but they had a pretty narrow looking surface, and if she misjudged her aim… There wasn’t any other way she could see to proceed. She wished she could just stop instead, just give up and go back. But how could she? There was no way to go all that way _ down _ without a parachute or something. Frustration grew within her. Why was everything just, _ difficult_, followed by _ more difficult_? Is this why the last room had been so empty? Because it had this after? She wanted to go home. She wanted things to be easy again. 

She sat down, bitter. This all was just too much. She held her head in her hands tiredly for a moment before pulling out the CQ-80 she’d received, messaging C. Q. Cumber. 

S1> you were right. this isn’t safe at all  
S1> and now I’m really far up and can’t come back  
S1> and I’ve already almost died a few times and don’t want to anymore

That was probably technically true. She wasn’t really keeping track of specific circumstances but between everything so far… 

S1> also I’m tired and hungry but I don’t have any food 

She sat morosely as she waited for a response. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting. He couldn’t exactly help her, far apart as they were. She wished that he could. She wished _ anything _ could be different for her right now. What she really wanted was for him to somehow be able to magically take her back, so she could be safe again, but she knew there was no way that could be possible. 

Conductor_Cumber> I’m sorry you’re in a difficult spot. All CQ-80s have a distress call function. I don’t know if anyone will be able to come to you if you activate it, but at the very least I will be able to find your approximate location.   
Conductor_Cumber> Don’t give up. 

Well, it was… something… Subject One flicked through the menus trying to find the distress call, feeling the anger at her situation dissipating and being replaced by sorrow. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of this. She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she found the distress call and turned it on. She let them stream down her face, sobbing. She curled up, hiding her face against her knees. She wished C. Q. Cumber was here. Even if he just sat next to her, it would be nice to not be alone. A new message flashed up on her CQ-80, and she struggled to read it through the blur of her tears. 

Conductor_Cumber> I see your signal. You are quite close to the surface.   
Conductor_Cumber> It shouldn’t be much further.

Subject One felt her hearts lift just a little upon reading the messages. There _ was _ an end to this, and she was nearly there. That gave her hope. She looked up again, and was soon disheartened once more. She was so close, but… The task in front of her seemed impossible. Even if she did make it on top of one of those arches, where would she go from there? She couldn’t see any other surfaces close enough. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise in the distance, the sound of shifting machinery. It looked like something might be moving around the far distant platform, but she couldn’t tell from where she was. 

Maybe C. Q. Cumber would have some idea about how to get across. She took a picture of the room ahead of her, the CQ-80’s camera just about able to capture the far-off platform she presumed she needed to get to, and sent it along with her next messages.

S1> I need to get to the part in the distance  
S1> there isn’t anything here. I don’t know how

She didn’t know what else to say. It seemed the conductor wasn’t sure either, as it took him quite a while to respond. When he finally did, Subject One didn’t read it right away, distracted when she saw some kind of movement in the distance. Looking over at where it was, it seemed like… a platform floating along. Floating along the dotted light track. Was it coming towards her? She looked back at her CQ-80.

Conductor_Cumber> Is there anything around you that you might use to help you?  
S1> no but I think there’s a platform coming over now  
Conductor_Cumber> I’m glad. Keep in touch.

She strained to see the platform. It wasn’t moving very quickly, but it _ was _ moving. She watched it make its way across the room, willing it to go faster. She already felt like she’d been here for long enough. It took forever, but it eventually arrived. Grateful, she stepped onto it, and soon after she did so it set off again, going back across its tracks. It was still somewhat slow, but at least she was progressing, and not having to risk herself in the process. In the middle of the platform was a raised bump, like a little dais. She wondered if it was meant to hold something, and what if so. 

As it travelled across the room, she realised there were octomissile launchers, the torpedoes floating along ahead of them. They would cross the path of the platform, but they weren’t overly close to one another, so were easy enough to walk around. Distracted by her hunger, Subject One found herself hoping that whatever she found at the end of this, there would be food involved. Couldn’t this thing go any faster? 

It felt like it took an eternity, but it slowly made its way to the far end. Once it did, she could see clearly the thick cables spiralling around the place and up into the space above them. There was another launchpad here, and she was hoping this one might be one of the last. She was so tired. 

The launchpad took her to a much brighter open chamber, with an enormous lift in the middle. A ride rail in front of her led towards it. She hopped on the rail and made her way to the lift in the centre. Was this it? Would this take her up the rest of the way? Had she made it? She lay down tiredly in the middle of the lift as it began ascending. 

Looking above her, she realised the brightness wasn’t from lights – there was no ceiling. It looked like there had been, once, but the roof, walls, lift mechanisms, everything above a certain point was damaged, all broken metalwork and shattered glass. _ What happened here? _ She found her eyes drawn to the sky above her. Dusky evening hues stretched out brilliantly above, painting the clouds in all manner of oranges and pinks. Subject One had never seen that before. It was breath-taking. 

S1> I can see the sky.

She took a picture to send.

S1> it’s pretty  
S1> have you seen it before?  
Conductor_Cumber> I have not. It is quite magnificent.  
Conductor_Cumber> Although that is unusual. Comparing your location to the company schematics, according to this you should still be within the structure.  
S1> it’s broken  
S1> like the top got ripped off. or exploded.  
Conductor_Cumber> I see.  
Conductor_Cumber> Congratulations on making it.

Subject One wondered how long it would be before the lift stopped being able to go any higher due to the damages. She hoped it would at least be high enough for her to see outside of the walls around her. In the meantime, she closed her eyes, tired. She wouldn’t nap, just… rest. Keeping an ear out for any signs of malfunctions on the lift’s part, she rolled onto her side, content to just lie there for now. 

* * *

Subject One was brought out of her dozing by a painful screeching of metal. Standing, she looked at the lift around her. It was juddering now, struggling. Perhaps this was as far as it could reach with the damage to the machinery. The walls still stretched up above her, but not much further. The broken debris of the damaged building were jutting out at awkward angles all over the place. The lift gave one last stuttering jolt before halting, unable to proceed. 

Subject One wondered how to get out. There wasn’t much she could get to from here, but one bent girder was near enough that she could clamber onto the end, and from there try to climb up the wreckage. At the very least if she got closer to the edge then if there were any holes in the building near her she’d be able to see outside. Pulling herself onto the metal beam, she crawled along to its edge at the fragmented wall.

She looked back at hearing the sound of mechanisms to see the lift descending again. Perhaps it was automatically going back now that it couldn’t go further. She hoped she wouldn’t have any further need of it. Turning her attention ahead of her again, she reached for another broken bit of brickwork. _ So much climbing… _ At least she could see the top now. Not too much further. 

Climbing wreckage was not particularly easy. There weren’t always bits close to where Subject One was, and things were all snapped from the damage so pointy and sharp and difficult to grab onto without hurting herself. She was still so tired. There were metal pipes and beams all over the place but half of them were too slim, she couldn’t climb onto them. She did manage to wind her way up the parts she could access though, and she made her ascent slowly but surely. There hadn’t been any gaps in the wall that she could see out of like she’d hoped, but once she was at the top it wouldn’t matter anyway. 

The top of the wall was just above her now. She couldn’t quite reach it but there was a broken beam jutting from it that she could climb. Pulling herself up, she looked out over the edge. The last light of the setting sun glittered off the waves below, the ocean stretching out before her. In the distance she could see lights, buildings. A city. She felt… a lot of things, all mixed up. Glad to be out and feeling the sun, relieved she’d found civilisation, but also utterly distraught that there was still no way to get there. It was right there for her to see, but she had no way to traverse the sea. 

At the very least the broken wall was thick enough that she could sit on it. It was jagged and broken and uncomfortable, but it was enough. She was at the top, she had made it as far as she could possibly go on her own. _ But now what? _ Even now, even when she had come this far, even still… She still couldn’t do any more. Now she was just stuck _ here _ instead of _ there. _ She was exhausted, and she was hungry, and she was still just _ stuck_. She couldn’t even sleep – even if the hunger pangs in her stomach weren’t too loud to ignore, she couldn’t risk fidgeting in her rest and falling. She was too tired to even cry. She just sat, despairing at her situation, watching the beautiful but deadly waves before her. 

Subject One pulled out the CQ-80. The distress signal symbol continued to flash in the corner. Maybe someone out there might be able to see it. Maybe help would come, if she waited. At the very least she could message C. Q. Cumber. 

S1> made it to the top  
S1> it’s in the middle of the ocean though  
S1> I can see a city in the distance but I can’t get there

She didn’t wait very long for a response before putting the device away. If anything changed she could let him know. She stared out over the water as the last of the sun’s rays slowly faded and darkness settled. 

Funny. Just a few moments ago she would’ve sworn she couldn’t possibly sleep from the hunger. Now though, her consciousness was slipping. There was no more adrenaline to keep her awake, no energy to keep her going. She tried to keep her eyes open, but they drooped, and soon she drifted, sleep claiming her.

* * *

C. Q. Cumber was worried. Frankly, he had been worried about that girl from the moment she rushed out to see those others like her only to come back crying and distraught, but now he was more afraid for her than he ever had been yet. Which was quite a lot, given she’d only arrived a few days ago. 

It hadn’t helped to go through such uncertainty of his own at the same time, what with Kamabo Corporation disappearing. And then, her outburst, her completely valid points about asking questions… He’d had time to reconsider some things - or rather, finally think about some things he had been avoiding thinking about for a long time.

That was beside the point, though. He looked at the messages she’d sent him, the replies he’d made, still unanswered. It seemed she was stuck in a rather dire situation - and apparently not for the first time - and had no idea what to do. It didn’t sound like something he would know what to do about, either. The only solace he had was seeing her distress signal still going, beeping away. He sincerely hoped that meant she was still going, even if she wasn’t responding to him. 

He was truly trying to help this one, not just doing what he was employed to. It had been him who convinced her to go up through the ceiling – he badly wanted to believe he was doing the right thing, that whatever was up there would lead to a better life for her. She would make it somewhere decent, wouldn’t she?

Above all else, he hoped he hadn’t sent another person to their death. He had been responsible for enough murder at the hands of Kamabo Corporation already.

* * *

Subject One woke to the sound of some kind of engine. Blinking tiredly, she looked around her. It was night now, and she was surrounded by cold and black. There were stars above her, and the lights of the city still shone, but now she saw bleakly a shape hanging in the dark, moving awkwardly through the air. It had headlamps, struggling to light anything much up but leaving the dust and seaspray glittering slightly in the air. It turned, and the lamps found the wall she was on. She thought about waving, but it was so dark, she doubted they would see. Was there any way to get their attention? Some kind of light, maybe… 

She pulled the CQ-80 out of her pocket. The screen it projected was a kind of light, maybe that would show up. Turning it on, she tried waving it around. It seemed to work, as after a while the shape seemed to raise up, and then the lamps were on her, shining right in her face. She squinted, raising an arm to shield her eyes. A voice called out from whatever it was. 

“Hello! I take it the distress signal is yours?” 

She blinked in the light, nodding. 

“Here, jump in. I’ll move around for you.” 

She heard the sound of a door opening, and the shape moved in the blackness. As it turned she saw lights inside the vehicle, and when she got in she realised it was a truck. That flew, apparently. As she sat down it occurred to her that whoever was driving it was talking to her, but she wasn’t paying attention. Still tired. And still famished, she realised as her stomach growled loudly. 

“Have you got any food?” 

The voice paused briefly. “Er, no, I don’t think so. You’ll have to hold on until we get back to Inkopolis. How long have you been out there?”

She groaned and flopped over on her side. _ Can I _ not _ be almost dead or likely to die soon for a while… _ “Don’t know… some hours?” 

“How did you get there in the first place?” 

Subject One was still tired. She didn’t want to be talking. She just wanted rest and food and to maybe feel okay instead of exhausted. “Came up from below. Tired now.”

If her rescuer spoke again, she ignored it. She was going back to sleep. She’d done enough hard work and forcing herself to do things she didn’t want to in the last few days. Whatever was happening next, it could happen when she woke up. 


	6. Into the sunlight

Subject One was woken up by a lot of bumping about. She was already bruised from her escapades climbing up through the levels, more damages were _ really _ not appreciated. Looking up, things were brighter than before. Not quite daylight bright, but not completely dark like night. It seemed like the bumping was part of landing, as she heard the front door opening and the driver getting out. The side door opened, and she was greeted by a small horseshoe crab, barely even half her height. 

“Sorry for the rough landing, it takes some getting used to, this truck. Let’s get you something to eat, shall we?” 

She stepped out, following the crab into a nearby building. It was significantly brighter inside with the lights on. The crab continued talking as they walked through the room and up some stairs leading off from the back.

“I’m Sheldon, by the way, I did mention this before, but I think you fell asleep. You never did tell me who you were. Here, have these for now.” He picked up a packet of crisps from a counter and turned to toss them to her. “Oh, wow. You… really are green. Like, _ minty. _ I thought it was just the headlights or something.” 

Subject One said nothing, tearing open the crisps and pouring some into her mouth. She should probably be chewing a bit more before swallowing but cod she was too hungry for that. 

“You might want to slow down a little… I think if you eat too fast after being starved a while it tends to come back up.” 

He was probably right. Well, at the very least there was some food in her now, so she could afford to take a little more time, probably. 

“So… Who are you?” 

Of all the questions one could ask, it had to be that one, the one she didn’t have an answer for. “Don’t know.” 

“Oh. Well… You said you came from below, where was that? What was below the ocean?” 

“Deepsea Metro. And-” Wait. The metro. C. Q. Cumber. She hadn’t messaged him since saying she was stuck. She should probably let him know she was okay. She took the CQ-80 out, opening the messages. There were unread ones from him.

Conductor_Cumber> Keep your distress signal on. Someone in the city may see it and come to find you.  
Conductor_Cumber> Things will be alright.  
Conductor_Cumber> Has the situation changed at all?  
Conductor_Cumber> Are you there?  
Conductor_Cumber> Please tell me you’re safe.

She felt guilty. How long had she been there, at the top of that broken tower? She turned off the distress signal. Maybe he would have seen her location moving and realised she had been found. She quickly tapped in a message for him.

S1> I’m okay.  
S1> Crab with a flying truck came and got me.

She really hoped that whatever was responsible for the signal for the CQ-80s would still pick it up out here. There didn’t seem to be any way of telling if it had sent or not… 

“So… Deepsea Metro?” Sheldon asked. 

“…Yeah. It’s… really far down. And further down is the test centre. I was from there.” 

“What do you remember?” 

Subject One looked down at him, confused. “I still remember everything. I was at the test centre all my life. There was no-one else there except the speaker. The speaker taught me all sorts of things, but I never learned about _ me_. I never even had a name. Then the speaker stopped, the doors opened, I went up to the Deepsea Metro. Then I went up further. Then you found me.” 

“That’s remarkably succinct for summing up your whole life,” Sheldon said. 

Subject One emptied the packet of crisps. “That’s all I have.” 

“What about parents?”

“I don’t have any. I wasn’t… _ born_.” 

“Who looked after you when you were young?”

“No-one. Like I said, I was on my own.”

Sheldon looked away, seemingly at a loss of some kind. “Well, I doubt those crisps were enough food for you. Let’s get you a proper meal.” 

“Thanks.” 

Subject One followed him up some more stairs, ducking through the doorways on her way as they went to a kitchen. This place was clearly intended for a much shorter occupant. Made sense, given who lived here. 

“So what’s your plan now that you’re here?” Sheldon asked as he milled about, getting a pan out of the cupboards. 

“Don’t know. _ Not _ be about to die for a while, ideally. Actually feeling safe would be nice.” 

“Sounds like you’ve had a difficult time. Do sit down,” he said, gesturing to the table and chairs. They were a tad small for her, like the rest of the house, but it was still a seat. 

She sat down, crossing her arms over the table to use as a pillow. She covered it almost completely. Even with having slept, she didn’t feel very rested. Maybe because it was on a cold hard surface instead of in a proper bed. Maybe she had just done far too much in the past few days. Sheldon seemed to recognise she was still tired, as he didn’t try to talk to her more for now, and the kitchen was quiet aside from the quiet simmering from the stove. It smelled pretty good, which only made her hungrier. Fortunately it didn’t seem to take long, and soon he set down a bowl of soup in front of her along with a bread roll. The crisps may not have filled her up much, but they at least gave her the patience to use the spoon provided instead of just picking up the bowl and drinking from it directly. Once she’d eaten, she moved to take the bowl to the sink to wash, but Sheldon stopped her, taking it from her hands.

“Don’t mind it, I’ll do it later. Was that enough for you?” 

“Yeah. Um, thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it. Once I saw your SOS call, I couldn’t possibly ignore someone stranded out in the ocean. Are you still tired? I have a spare room, although the bed might be a bit… small.”

“Yeah… thanks.” 

She followed him to another room, one fairly undecorated but with a bed, a bedside table with a lamp, and a window letting in the growing light. True to his word, the bed was not one she would fit on, at least not like this. Easily solved. She shifted to her swimming form, wriggling her way under the duvet. 

“Rest well! If you don’t find me up here when you wake up, I’ll be in the shop downstairs.”

Subject One heard footsteps as he walked away, closing the door behind him. She let out a long-awaited sigh of relief, glad that she could finally sleep on a full stomach. She wondered how she might thank the little crab for his help. She didn’t have a whole lot to offer, but she would find something or other she could do for him. There was a fair chance she would have ended up just starving out there if he hadn’t shown up, after all… Drifting off to sleep, she found herself glad that the first person she’d met out here where the sun shone had been someone kind. 

* * *

When Subject One woke, the room was bright, even without any lights on. She wandered over to the window, looking out at the sky. There was so much light here. Stretching, she was sore all over, but still felt vastly better than she had the day before. She looked down at the street below. She could see shops on the other side of the street, and a few people milling about. None of them looked like her. There were jellyfish and inklings mostly, with the occasional octoling. 

She couldn’t find Sheldon anywhere, so supposed he would be downstairs as he’d said. It took a while to find the stairs – she’d been too hungry yesterday to pay much attention to her surroundings – but she only had to go down one flight before she could hear him speaking. 

“…to do. She can’t stay here. Even if I didn’t mind letting a complete stranger live with me, everything I have is crab-sized, and she’s big even by inkling standards – frankly, it’s a miracle she hasn’t hit her head on any of the lights yet. Though I’m not sure she is an inkling. Or an octoling. …I don’t know. I’m not sure she does either. She’s- well, she’s green, for one thing. And her eyes are black. Really, she looks _ scary, _ but she hasn’t done anything to be wary of…” 

Subject One couldn’t hear who he was talking to, but it certainly seemed like it wasn’t just a one-sided conversation. Wanting to hear more, she paused, quiet.

“Well, yes, but I’d really rather not have to use any of them. And half the designs in my house are still prototypes… I just don’t know what to make of this. I’ll keep an eye on her for now. …Alright. I’ll be in touch.” 

She heard him sigh, and then was quiet. What should she make of that last part? Prototypes of what? Still standing just outside the room he’d been in, she didn’t notice his quiet footsteps approaching, jumping slightly as he appeared through the doorway. He seemed surprised too, doing much the same. 

“Oh! You’re up! Did you sleep well? Sorry, I was just on the phone.” 

“Yeah. I heard.” 

He blinked at that, pausing slightly. “Most people wouldn’t openly admit to eavesdropping…” 

“Eavesdropping?”

“Listening in on someone else’s conversation. You… really haven’t been around people much, have you?” He shook his head slightly. “I would advise trying not to do that in future. It’s quite rude.” 

“You were talking about me, though.”

“Ah… Yes.” He paused, wringing his hands. “How much of that did you… hear?”

Subject One was quiet briefly, thinking. “You said I couldn’t stay here. And that you weren’t sure what I was, and that I was scary…” She didn’t like the thought of that. “I don’t want to be scary.” 

Sheldon smiled nervously. “I’m afraid that might be difficult… It’s a natural reaction to fear the unknown, and you are quite _ strikingly _ different to… just about everyone here. Also you’re really big.”

“I can be smaller,” she said, shrinking down to her swimming form to prove it. 

“You’re still bigger than most inklings’ squid forms. And we still have no idea what you are.” 

“Oh…” Disappointed, she stood again. “Well… I’m… I was an experiment. I was made by an artificial intelligence… Using both inkling and octoling genetics. The AI’s gone now, though. I don’t know what happened to it, it just opened up the test centre and stopped a while ago.” 

The crab seemed to perk up at new information. “I see! I see! Although… If you have the genetics of inklings and octolings, why are you green? Neither species has that skin colour, or at least not that I’ve ever heard of. Or those black eyes.” 

Subject One fell quiet. There… definitely _ was _ an answer to that, but… “I… The record just said a blend of octoling and inkling. It didn’t specify much else.” That was technically true. The answer had been in a different file, after all. 

“Record? Where was that? It might have more information-”

“_No_,” Subject One said, a little too hastily. “Um, it’s… Right at the bottom. Really far down. I don’t want to go back.” _ And I don’t want anyone to know about that. I wish _ I _ didn’t know. _“It was really dangerous, too…” 

“Well, that’s understandable. You don’t have to go. Someone else might be willing to try-” 

“NO! NO-ONE SHOULD GO!” 

Sheldon yelped as she shouted, disappearing under his helmet – or shell? Shell-helmet? Shellmet? Oh no. She didn’t mean to do that. She was just – panicking – she backed away, her breathing shallow and rapid. 

“I- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to- _ please don’t send anyone down there_,” she said, voice dropping to a terrified whisper. 

Sheldon peeked out, standing again upon seeing how fearful she was. “Okay. I hear you. I won’t send anyone.” His voice was a little shaky, but he wasn’t hiding anymore, at least. “Are you… alright?” 

Subject One shook her head, backing up further to sit on the bottom step of the stairs, curling up. “…I’m afraid.” Why? Why did she still have to be scared, even now when the danger was gone? It wasn’t cold, but she shivered. “Don’t go down there. _ Please. _”

“I won’t,” Sheldon repeated. He paused for a moment, then walked over to her, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright. You’re safe here.” 

She took in a deep breath, steadying herself, and looked over at him. Even sitting down on the stair, her eye level was still above his. He didn’t look afraid now, and was offering a reassuring smile. She tried to relax, willing her hearts to slow.

Then both of them jumped as someone hammered at the door.


	7. Small discoveries

The loud knocking was rapid and urgent, and followed by someone yelling from the other side. 

“Sheldon! You okay in there? I heard shouting!”

Sheldon seemed to realise who it was, as he breathed out a little sigh of relief and hurried over to open the door. “Yes, yep, everything’s fine, nothing to worry about.”

Subject One quickly stood and looked across the hallway at the stranger being invited in – an inkling with long black and pink hair wearing an open pink jacket with sunglasses and a beanie, a roller propped up over one shoulder. _ Why do you have that..? _

“Oh, good,” the inkling said. “Guess I don’t need this.” 

“Is that one of my displays from the shop?” Sheldon asked sceptically. 

“Yeah, I grabbed it when I heard the yelling. Chill, I’ll put it back when I go down.” Propping the weapon against a wall, she walked past Sheldon as he shook his head exasperatedly and approached Subject One. “You must be our mystery guest. Huh. When he said you were green I was thinking something darker. Like how everyone loves drawing aliens.” 

Nervous, Subject One said nothing, watching the newcomer warily. 

“Uh… You can call me Agent One. What about you?” 

_ Other people have numbers in their names too? _She was about to respond when she remembered Iso Padre’s reply when she had first met him. “Is that… a name or a title?” 

“It’s a… codename? Gotta keep my real name under wraps, and anyway, calling myself an agent sounds cool.” 

“Why is your real name a secret?” 

“Uh… important… agent reasons.” 

“Agent One does a lot of dangerous work that gets a person enemies, so has to keep her identity secret so they can’t use it against her,” Sheldon piped up.

“Yeah! That! That’s totally it,” Agent One said. 

“How would someone use your identity against you?” 

“I dunno, they could, like…” She looked aside at Sheldon.

“If they knew who she was they could target her friends and family,” he said helpfully. 

“Oh.” That made sense. So, having an identity could be dangerous sometimes… but only if you had enemies, it seemed. 

“Anyway! We’re getting sidetracked,” Agent One said hastily. “Who are you?” 

Apparently that was going to be asked a lot. The only person she’d met so far who hadn’t asked that right away had been C. Q. Cumber. He had never asked at all, now that she thought about it. 

“She told me she doesn’t know,” Sheldon said when she didn’t respond right away. “She grew up alone and never received a name.” 

“The speaker called me Subject One.” 

“Subject One? That’s a bit of a mouthful,” Agent One said.

“It’s just as long as Agent One,” Subject One pointed out. 

“…True,” the inkling admitted. “Doesn’t sound as fresh, though.” She turned back to walk to the door. “Okay! Well, I was just dropping by to see what the deal was, looks like you’ve got this handled. I’ve got work to be at.”

“Wait, wait! I totally don’t have this- We don’t even-” Sheldon spluttered, soon cut off.

“I know, I know, still lots to work out, but she’s not _ dangerous_, and _ I, _ am now running late,” she said. “You’ve got M- Agent Two’s number, she’s probs awake by now, message her if anything comes up. I gotta be on my way, so see ya later!” With that, she dashed out the door and down the stairs again, gone. The roller she’d propped against the wall remained, forgotten.

“…Well,” Sheldon said, sighing. “Speaking of work, I should get back to minding the shop.” He picked up the roller. “What will you do for now?” 

What _ would _ she do? She didn’t exactly know anything about where she was. Thinking, she didn’t reply. 

“It’s lunchtime, so if you’re hungry feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. If you aren’t sure what to do, you could always try a bit of turf war. The lobby’s just outside, after all.” 

“Turf war?” 

Sheldon blinked at her a few times. “I thought you said you had still been learning things? Everyone knows about turf war. It’s the most popular sport around. Two teams of four compete against each other in three-minute matches where you have to ink as much of the area as possible. At the end of the three minutes, whichever team has most of the stage covered wins.” 

“I _ did _ learn things. Not that, though.” 

“Whoever was teaching you must not have been up to date on culture,” he remarked, followed by a brief pause. “…If you were alone, who was teaching you? You mentioned a speaker?” 

“Yeah. It was the AI that…”_ Made me. _ “Taught me things. In the test centre there were speakers in every room. It taught me about history, cooking, geography, sciences, languages, maths…” 

“I see,” he said. “But… Turf war has been a part of culture for… forever. I’m pretty sure it goes back at least a couple thousand years. What about the Great Turf War? Did you learn about that?” 

“No…” 

“What kind of history _ were _ you taught?” Sheldon asked, brow furrowed.

“It was human history, mostly.” 

“Curious… Oh well. I’ll be downstairs in the shop.” With that, he went on his way. 

Left alone, Subject One wandered through the apartment, familiarising herself. When she found a bathroom, it occurred to her that she was seriously in need of a wash – all the climbing had left her covered in sweat. There was a cupboard in one corner that she found contained towels, so she took one and showered, glad to wash off the grime. If only she had some clean clothes to put on, too.

Once redressed, she wondered what to do. Sheldon had said it was lunchtime, and thinking about it, she was pretty hungry. She headed up to the kitchen, opening up the cupboards as she thought of what to eat. Maybe something simple… As she rummaged through what was available, something caught her eye – _ sugar_. The bag of caster sugar was pretty full, and next to it was a slightly emptier bag of icing sugar. The kitchens at the test centre never had sugar… Well. They had, once or twice. But only very occasionally, and none of those occasions had been any time recently.

She’d made cake before, once. It was a long time ago, but she still remembered the rough details – weigh out some eggs, then the same amount of self-raising flour, sugar, and margarine. There was flour in this cupboard too, and when she checked the fridge, there were eggs. No margarine, but butter worked as well. Butter was better for butter icing too. Anticipation sparkled within her as she opened up more cupboards, looking for a weighing scale and a mixing bowl. 

Once she had everything she needed, she set the oven to preheat and began weighing the ingredients. Was there a particular order it was meant to be in? She couldn’t quite remember, but she had a feeling the sugar and butter went in first. Once she had the right amounts of butter and sugar in the bowl - and maybe just a little extra sugar - she set about mixing it with a wooden spoon she’d found. When the mix reached a consistent texture, she cracked in the eggs and mixed again before adding the flour. Mixing with a wooden spoon was difficult compared to the electric mixer she’d had at the test centre, and not helped by the blister on her hand still complaining at any pressure, but she didn’t find anything better amongst Sheldon’s kitchen equipment, and hey, at least it still worked doing it this way. She _ had _ managed to find a cake tin – rather dusty, so apparently didn’t see much use, she’d washed it right away – and set about lining it with greaseproof paper before pouring the batter in. It only reached a little over halfway up the tin, but it would expand as it cooked. She should _ probably _ scrape as much out of the bowl and into the tin as she could, and there was certainly a fair bit left stuck to the sides… _ Nah. _ Putting it in the oven, she made a note of the time, and sat down with the mixing bowl and spoon, smiling broadly. From what she remembered, the raw batter somehow tasted better than the finished thing, and she was more than happy to relive that experience as she licked the batter off the spoon, then used it to scrape the rest off the bowl to eat. It was messy stuff - she was pretty sure she’d managed to get some of the sweet mixture on her nose – but it was _ so delicious, oh my cod. _She wasn’t hungry anymore by the time the bowl and spoon could be mistaken for clean.

There was still a while before the cake would be cooked, so she put them aside by the sink, grabbing another bowl to make icing in and another spoon to mix with. In went the last of the butter and a generous heaping of icing sugar. The finely powdered sugar was forced into the air by her vigorous mixing, the dust cloud settling on the table and her shirt. Once the icing was made, and passed her taste tests satisfactorily, she put the bowl of it by the oven, looking impatiently into it. The cake had begun to rise, but wouldn’t be done for a while yet. The smell of it cooking was beginning to waft around the kitchen. 

Disappointed at having to wait, Subject One looked around the kitchen. She supposed she should clean up in the meantime. It wouldn’t be great for the bandages on her hand, but they had already gotten pretty soaked in the shower, and she should probably take them off to check how it was healing anyway. Filling the sink, she wet a cloth to wipe down the flour- and sugar-dusted sides and table and washed up all the things she was already done with. Draining the sink afterwards, she rinsed her face too, washing off any stray batter. 

The cake still wasn’t done when she checked. She tugged at the sodden bandage around her hand, unwrapping it. The blister was remarkably reduced, and much less sore. It was still there, but looking a lot healthier than before. It would probably be a good idea to wrap it again, if only to prevent it from getting accidentally burst by anything. 

She wandered down both flights of stairs to the ground floor, looking for Sheldon. Now that it was light and she had the energy to pay attention to her surroundings, she saw it was a shop floor with various cabinets and wall fixtures showcasing weapons like the ones she’d seen on the Deepsea Metro. The roller Agent One had brought up was back on the wall. Subject One wasn’t sure how she felt about so many weapons in one place. 

The little crab she was after was on the shop floor, talking rapidly to an inkling whose eyes had glazed over. Fixated on whatever he was saying, he didn’t seem to notice her, but the inkling did, and blinked, staring at her. She hovered by the door she’d come through, not sure whether to approach or not. Sheldon eventually finished whatever he was talking about, and the inkling turned their attention back to him. Subject One stayed put and watched as they made a purchase of a splatling and left the shop. Once they did, she walked over to Sheldon, who had spotted her and given a little wave. 

“D’you have any bandages?” she asked.

“Yes, I have a first aid kit behind the counter,” he said, walking over to it. “What for?” 

She showed him her palm. 

“Oh, I see. How’d you get that?” 

“Trying to grab a cable while approaching terminal velocity.” 

“Oh.” He coughed slightly as he opened up the first aid kit, pulling out the bandages and handing them to her. “Been baking? Your shirt is covered in flour.” 

“Mm-hmm,” she said absent-mindedly as she redressed the wound. 

“You enjoy baking, then?” 

“Um… I guess? Why?”

“Well, you’re smiling, is all,” he said, putting the first aid kit back once she returned the rest of the bandages.

_ Am I? _ Subject One realised that she was. _ Huh. _

“You should probably change shirts, or at least wash that one. It was looking a tad in need before but now it definitely should get cleaned. Although… I suppose you don’t have any others?” 

“No.” 

“Right… Do you have money? There’s a clothes shop nearby.” 

“No…” 

“I suppose… the shop’s empty now anyway, I can get you something. Stay down here and watch the shop, I’ll be just a moment.” 

“But the cake’s going to be done soon…” 

“Really, it’s just next door. I won’t even be five minutes.” 

“Okay.” 

He left the shop, leaving her on her own. What did watching the shop entail? Presumably it wasn’t just standing outside and staring at the building. What should she do if someone came in? Did she have to talk to them like Sheldon had to that inkling? She didn’t really know anything about the wares. Sure, some were similar to the things she’d occasionally picked up to mess around with when she got off the train for some silence, but she wasn’t exactly experienced using them, nor was she all that interested in getting more experience with any of them. 

She stood behind the counter, which probably looked very mismatched given it was made for someone half her height, hoping no-one would come in. The moments ticked by, and she wondered how the cake was doing. Was it ready to come out soon? What if it was ready now and was going to burn? She hoped that wasn’t the case, she was looking forward to having cake again after so long. 

When Sheldon got back – true to his word in a matter of minutes – she immediately mentioned checking the cake and dashed back upstairs. Peering into the oven, it had risen well and was domed at the top, nicely browned. Taking the awkwardly tiny oven gloves, she took it out, poking a knife through to the centre. When she pulled it out there was no liquid residue, so she was satisfied it had cooked all the way through. Setting it aside on the counter to cool, she turned the oven off and went back downstairs. 

“It’s done,” she announced happily as she returned to the shop. 

“Good-o. Here’s a clean shirt,” Sheldon replied, holding out a simple black shirt with white lettering on the front. “Uh, don’t change down here.”

“Thanks,” Subject One said, taking it. “Why?”

“It’s _ seriously _ inappropriate to bare yourself in front of people. Unless it’s like, someone you know completely, but definitely not anyone you’ve known less than a day. And definitely not in public, which my shop front is.” 

“…Why’s it inappropriate?” 

“Because it is. People don’t do that. Go upstairs to get changed, please.” 

“Okay…” She didn’t really get it, but whatever. Upstairs was where the cake was, anyway. She headed back up, changing shirts once there was a closed door behind her. Not sure what to do with the dirty one, she folded it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, tapping the cake to see how hot it was. Still too warm for the next step, the butter icing would melt. Cool enough to eat, though, probably… Taking the knife she’d tested it with, she cut a slice out. It wasn’t too hot to hold in her hand, so was definitely not about to burn her mouth. Still delightfully warm, it was delicious. She wasn’t entirely sure if her memory was right about it being better raw, this was _ amazing_. She was definitely not hungry at this point, but ended up cutting herself another slice anyway, just because it was so tasty. She almost wished she had a bigger stomach capacity so she could eat more. But on the other hand, she should really stop eating it before there ended up being no cake to ice at all. _ Just one more little slice, then I’ll stop… _

By the time her stomach was full enough for its complaints to prevent her eating more, a quarter of the cake was already gone. It had cooled by now, so she cut it horizontally in half, putting a layer of butter icing in the middle and the rest of it on top. Feeling lethargic, she got herself a drink and went back to the bedroom she’d slept in, flopping down on the small bed and shrinking down so she could fit on it. She had, without a shadow of a doubt, eaten far too much and was feeling the consequences as slight nausea rose in her. _ Definitely worth it. _ Closing her eyes, she decided to nap away the sickness, hoping by the time she woke up it would be over. Thinking back to the last time she’d made cake, she was pretty sure the same thing had happened then – when the cake was there, she just kept eating it until she couldn’t any more, whether due to being full or feeling sick. It was the same story when she’d made fudge. And meringue. That was probably why there was never any sugar at the test centre kitchens after that, in hindsight.

Oh well. She hadn’t used all of Sheldon’s sugar supplies up yet with the cake. There were plenty of sweet dreams awaiting her yet. 


	8. A difference of opinion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter comes with a fantastic piece of artwork from thedogzlife!!! (link: https://twitter.com/TheDogzLife/status/1152177817796435968)  
check out their fics too, Mondegreen Melody is what inspired me to write splatoon fanfic!!

Subject One woke around an hour later, feeling significantly less queasy. She got up and wandered downstairs to the shop. Sheldon was by the counter, tinkering with something or other. The room was otherwise empty. She glanced around once more at all the weapons adorning the walls. Sheldon looked up at the sound of her footsteps.

“Oh, good. The shirt fits.”

Subject One nodded, still looking at the wares. “Why do you have all these weapons?”

“I sell them. They’re for use in turf war and such, mind, not anything actually dangerous.”

Turf war. He’d mentioned that earlier. “What’s turf war like?” 

“Why not see for yourself?” Sheldon gestured out the window. “The lobby’s just outside and to the left. It’s free entry, and they have splattershot juniors available for new players to use.” 

Subject One thought for a moment, soon deciding she would give it a try. Might as well. She was all for trying new things, especially ones described as _ not dangerous_, and she wasn’t exactly busy. Wandering out the shop door, she made her way over to the building Sheldon had pointed to. 

She quickly became acutely aware of the stares aimed her way. Was she really that out of the ordinary? Uncomfortable, she wished she had some way of hiding herself, and was grateful the walk was so short. Being inside the lobby didn’t exactly change much, as everyone inside still took note of her, but at least it was an enclosed space and she could linger in a corner. Here it was only the people in this room who could see her, it didn’t feel like the whole world. 

What now? Was she supposed to talk to someone? How did this work? She could see a counter with a jellyfish at it, and the people coming and going often went over to speak to them. Maybe she should try there? Feeling incredibly awkward, she eventually made her way over to the desk. 

“Hello! How may I help?” the jellyfish asked as she approached. 

“Um… I want to try turf war…” 

“Oh, are you a new player?”

“Yeah.”

“I see! Welcome! We’ll just need to set you up and get you registered, and you can start right away. I’ll need your name, date of birth, and whatever you’d like your screen name to be on the results boards.” 

Subject One paused blankly. “Um. I don’t… have a name.” Was this going to be a problem here? She hoped she found one soon. “I know my birthday now, though…”

“I… see,” the jellyfish said slowly. “I suppose… it’s only for if you lose your entry card anyway, so if you just keep hold of it, it won’t be a problem. And we can always update the records if needed. So, your birthday?” 

“June Seventeenth, um… Nineteen years ago.” She'd forgotten the year. Before seeing it on the screen at the test centre, she'd never even known the date before. Well, if she saw one agan, it wouldn't be hard to work out. 

“And what would you like your screen name to be? It can be changed any time.” 

Subject One thought. What was a screen name meant to be? Did it matter much? She glanced up at the screens nearby, looking at the names on it for reference. Some of them seemed just to be the same as a regular name, while others seemed to have extra symbols or letters added at the start or end or both, some were… phrases or jumbled characters she couldn’t quite parse. What was ‘fr3sh m33ms’ supposed to mean? It seemed like she could use just about anything, so… Might as well have it the same as her ID on the CQ-80. 

“S1.” 

The jellyfish tapped away at the keyboard and a machine next to the computer dispensed a card. “There we go, all set up for you. Keep your entry card safe. To join a room, just go over to the lift and tap your card to the reader, it’ll take you to one with players of similar experience. Matches begin once a room has eight players. And here, we have these for all new players.” The receptionist reached into a drawer at the desk and pulled out a weapon, not quite the same as any of the ones she’d tried on the Deepsea Metro. It was labelled as a splattershot junior, so presumably would be similar to a splattershot. Taking it, Subject One wandered over to the lift to join a room. 

Waiting for the match to begin, the others in the room with her stared at her. Nervous, she lingered in one corner of the room, trying to ignore them by looking up at the screen displaying the details of those here. Attached to each screen name was a level, and everyone in this room was between one and ten. Hers was set to one. There were seven names listed so far, so they were only waiting for one more person. After a short while, a new name cropped up, and the lift pinged as their last member arrived. Their screen name was Crimzon, and their level was 25. _ What? Isn’t that a bit high compared to everyone else? _

She wondered if the inkling thought the same, as they smirked as they scanned the screen. The weapon they carried with them was a splatling – the same kind as the one she saw Sheldon sell earlier. Was this the same person? A sound like a bell ringing chimed, and a door opened to reveal a launchpad, presumably that would take them to their battle stage. Subject One followed as everyone filed onto it, catapulted through the air to their destination. 

She landed on a pad with three of the other players on an area leading out to a stage. A big screen displayed overhead marked the place as Starfish Mainstage. Looking at her teammates, she noticed the inkling with the splatling among them. Had they all always had yellow tentacles or had they changed? 

Looking at her, the inkling with the splatling frowned. “Come on, yellow’s the team colour. Cod, I had to get put with the _ complete _ newbie, didn’t I…”

Subject One had never changed her ink colour before. She’d never had reason to. She knew it must be something she _ could _ do… Concentrating, she wondered how this worked. It felt like something she could just flex like a muscle… The green ends of her tentacles shifted to a bright yellow just as a horn blared to mark the start of the match. 

“I’ll take right!” yelled out one of her teammates, charging off and covering the ground with splat dualies. 

“Centre,” said the inkling with the splatling, charging it up and quickly covering the area directly ahead. The last player, an octoling, said nothing, but dipped into the yellow ink from the splatling’s fire and swam forward. 

_ Guess I’m on left, _ Subject One thought to herself, concentrating on keeping her ink yellow as she sprayed over the area. She noticed hers retained its marbled appearance while the ink from the others was pretty uniform. _ I hope that doesn’t make a difference… _

Making sure to cover every corner of the floor around her, she noticed a lot of the centre ahead of their start point was already yellow, covered by the splatling, presumably. A trail up the wall indicated they’d gone up, and the area to the side remained ignored. She hopped down from her position, inking the blank patches. As she approached the stage at the centre of the area, she could see players from the other team now, spreading purple ink all around them. She made a note to avoid getting too close to any of them, in case any of their ink spray got on her by accident. 

Looking around, she saw a grate attached to the wall above her, so inked the wall and swam up to the vantage point. From here she should be able to cover a good portion of the central stage, and if any purple players tried to take it she’d be able to recolour it right away. The grate wrapped around to the other side too, and she followed it, shooting yellow everywhere she could. Going back to the side she came up on, she looked out over the stage just in time to see a purple inkling head up onto the stage, about to cover the area when they were rapidly pelted by ink shots. Horror spread through her as they exploded in a splash of yellow. _ What…!? _ Shocked, she looked back to where the shots had come from, and saw the inkling with the splatling punching the air victoriously atop another highpoint. She hopped down from the grate, inking the wall and swimming up to her teammate. 

“What are you _ doing_?” 

“Playing for keeps, _ duh_,” he replied, sparing her the briefest glance before scanning the area ahead again. “What’s that look for?” 

“You just- you just _ splatted _ them! Why would you do that?” 

“So they can’t keep inking? Cod, I know you’re new at this, but it’s pretty simple. The less time they spend on the field, the less they get to ink, the more likely we are to win.” 

Subject One stared at him in horror. She could understand the sanitised octarians splatting people, they were lifeless, they were just automated creatures following whatever directive was given to them, but this inkling was _ alive _ and _ aware _ and was not just willing to do that to someone, but _ happy _ to? 

“Look, they’re already back, see? Doesn’t make a difference,” he said, charging up the splatling. Subject One looked behind her to see the same purple inkling once again on the stage, splattering purple ink around them. 

“No,” she said. “No, that’s… I won’t let you.” She stood in front of him. 

“The hell?” he spat, glaring at her. “What do you think this is? It’s turf war, not happy fun kiddy times. Anyone who comes in here knows that’s what happens. Get outta the way.” 

She didn’t budge. He tried to step to the side, but she moved with him, keeping herself in front of the splatling. 

“Come _ on! _ What the hell is your problem, we’re going to _ lose!_” he yelled. 

“What’s _ your _problem? Why would you want to do that?” 

“You are literally the _ only person _ who cares,” he groaned exasperatedly. “Oh come _ on_, now the whole stage is theirs… Quit getting in my way and get inking!” 

“Only if you won’t splat anyone anymore.” 

He gave her the most unimpressed look she’d ever seen. “Oh my cod, _ fine_, just go and actually do something helpful.” 

She glared at him, but jumped back down to the stage. It was covered in purple now, but she could see her other teammates on the other side, hurrying to reclaim it. She went to help them, spreading yellow as best she could. She spotted purple back towards their starting point, and followed it, recovering it in her marbled ink. She noticed the purple player in the wide area in the midst of their base, and heard the charging of the splatling from a platform above. Once more, yellow pelted the inkling, and they burst. Subject One felt sick as the rest of the firing from the splatling was aimed over the remaining area, rapidly bringing it back to yellow. Once more she climbed the wall up to were the inkling was. 

“You said you wouldn’t do that!”

“Yeah, I lied,” he said flippantly, a timer sounding in the background to indicate the match was nearing its end.

_ What is wrong with him? _ “Stop it!” 

“No? Jeez, just get out of turf war if this is how you’re gonna be.” 

Subject One glared at him. “If you won’t stop then _ I’ll _ stop you.” 

He glared back. “Keep getting in my way and I’ll splat you myself.” His tentacles dropped to a dark blue, implying he would make good on that threat. 

Panicking, Subject One froze. She was torn. She really, _ really _didn’t want to relive that experience – but she didn’t want anyone else to, either. What could she do to prevent both? An idea flashed in her mind, and she threw her splattershot junior to the ground below them, grabbing the splatling and yanking it from his grasp.

“Wha- hey! What are you doing, give that back ri-”

His complaints were cut off as she flung the thing with all her might, and it went over the barrier at the edge of the stage, into the water below with a loud splash.

Distraught, he swapped back to yellow, swimming over to the edge. “What the eff is wrong with you!? I only just bought that! It was _ brand new _and how the hell am I gonna get it back!?”

Subject One ignored him, swimming away. She picked up her splattershot junior and headed to where she could see purple, inking what she could. There. Now he couldn’t go hurting anyone else. He seemed to be caught between despairing over his lost weapon and giving her a hard time, as he stared at her as she went but couldn’t drag himself away from the edge. Whatever. She was more than happy to leave him behind, inking wherever she saw purple until the final whistle blew. 

The results saw a clear loss for their team. While the two of them had been arguing, the opposing players had managed to claim the whole map. Subject One made no effort to stick around, even when a flustered jellyfish tried to reprimand her for her actions in the match, eventually giving up when she was clearly unresponsive even to being told she would have to be banned. It was only when she was striding back through the lobby that she realised splatling-boy had followed her, spitting curses after her. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to give him a hard glare, but was caught out when she realised everyone was staring – not like before when it had just _ seemed _ like everyone, and the stares were mostly just curious, now it really was every set of eyes in the room, all looking at her, and even though she was easily amongst the tallest there they were still somehow looking _ down_. 

Her anger at his attitude faded, replaced by a strong sense of unease. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be here, being seen by everyone, everyone looking at her like that, and yet she found herself rooted to the spot. She wanted to hide, but she couldn’t move. 

“So? The hell are you gonna do about my ballpoint splatling?” he was demanding loudly, wearing the blackest expression. “Even if they manage to get it back, it’s gonna have serious water damage. I’d been saving up for that, so you _ are _ going to pay me back.” 

She didn’t know what to say. Even if she did, she wasn’t sure she would be able to speak. Her throat felt tight. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for any means of escape. She wanted to just bolt to the door, but her legs were reluctant to listen to her, and some new arrivals had just come in, barring her path anyway. One of them made eye contact with her, then looked past her at splatling-boy, and their face seemed to change in recognition. Striding over, they called out, voice cocky and a smirk etched on their features. 

“Hey, brat! Still harassing people? You need another broken nose?” 

Splatling-boy looked past Subject One at the approaching inkling and swore. “Of course _ you’d _have to show up. Leave me alone, if anything, she’s the one doing the harassing here,” he said, jerking his head in Subject One’s direction.

“And yet you’re the one making a scene and yelling at her in the middle of the lobby. Seems like you’re the dick in this situation,” the inkling replied, walking close and putting their face right in front of his before hissing harshly at him. “_Shut up and leave her alone before I _ **_make_** _ you.” _

Splatling-boy glared at them, but said nothing, eventually grumbling something obscene under his breath and walking past, leaving the building. The inkling looked around at everyone staring with a fierce expression. 

“You got something to say?” they asked loudly. One by one, the eyes fell away. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Subject One jumped as the soft voice came from behind her. Another inkling wearing a grey sweater, short and pudgy with green hair and tan skin, the one who was with the one that’d chased off splatling-boy when they came in. Still feeling shaky, Subject One nodded slowly, trying to even out her breathing. 

“Cain, I swear if you had punched him again I’d be the one beating _ your _ass next,” the green inkling said with a little sigh. 

“Oh, come on, I wasn’t _ going _to, I just scared him off,” came the reply. The other inkling – Cain – was pretty pale with long purple hair, and looked kind of scrawny for someone who’d pulled off such a display of intimidation. It was made up for by the bullet wristbands and spiked choker around their neck, and black leather jacket. “And that kid’s still a little brat.” 

“He’s, like, sixteen, we were all brats at that age, it doesn’t make it okay to threaten a kid with violence,” their friend reprimanded, turning back to Subject One. “I’m Izzy, by the way. That’s Cain. They’re probably _ trying _ to be a decent person, but they’re also a hot-headed edgelord, so.”

“What kind of introduction is _ that?_” Cain asked indignantly. 

“What, like it isn’t true?” Izzy seemed caught between light amusement and disdain.

“I come in to the rescue and this is the thanks I get,” Cain grumbled. “Whatevs. ‘S long as you’re alright that’s what matters, I guess.” 

Subject One nodded again, slowly feeling okay again. “…Thanks.” 

“What was his deal today anyway?” 

“I… threw his splatling off the stage into the water,” Subject One admitted, somewhat guiltily. 

“Oh.” Cain shifted their own weapon case slightly, the size and shape of which looked like it contained something similar. “I guess I can understand getting mad about that. Why’d’ya do that?” 

“He was splatting people…” 

Cain looked at her, confused. “Well, yeah, it _ is _ turf war…” 

Subject One looked away. She didn’t really know what to say, how to explain herself. An awkward silence settled over them. 

“Are you new around here?” Izzy eventually asked. “I haven’t seen you around before.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did you have turf war where you were before?” 

“No.” 

“Right… Well, if you want, you can grab some matches with us. We can show you the ropes,” she offered. 

Subject One shook her head hastily. “No thanks… I got banned anyway.” 

“I mean. That’s pretty fair,” Cain said. Izzy shot them a look and elbowed them in the ribs. 

“You never played before, you didn’t know what the deal was, right? There has to be some leniency for that,” Izzy said hopefully. 

“I don’t want to play if people get splatted,” Subject One said. 

“Oh… Well, alright then.” She looked dejected for a moment before shaking it off. “Anyway, I didn’t catch your name..?” 

Subject One looked away again. She didn’t want to explain this and get the weird looks and misunderstandings again. “Um, I… have to go…” Without another word, she hurried out of the lobby, back to Sheldon’s shop - Ammo Knights, as she saw it was called from the sign. He didn’t have a chance to ask her how it went as she walked past without a word, heading up the stairs. 

Alone, she pulled out her CQ-80, opening up the messages with C. Q. Cumber. There was no response to her previous messages, so she wondered if they wouldn’t be able to get through from here after all. She typed some new lines for him anyway, just in case they might be delivered at some point, somehow. 

S1> I’m not sure I like it here. People splat each other for fun  
S1> or for whatever turf war is meant to be

Making her way up to the top floor and the kitchen, the smell of the cake made its way to her. It wasn’t particularly strong now, but it was still there. That was something nice, at least. Cutting herself another slice, the first she’d have that actually had icing on it, she turned her attention back to the CQ-80. 

S1> there’s cake though


	9. Making arrangements

Subject One sat in Sheldon’s kitchen making her way through the cake for a while. Her mind was swimming. She couldn’t understand how people could willingly participate in something like turf war, offering themselves up to get splatted and splat others. And it was just treated as something completely _ normal, _judging by the reactions from splatling-boy and Izzy and Cain. What kind of people had she found herself amongst? 

That said, they didn’t seem _ bad_. Cain had quickly jumped in to help her when everyone was staring, and Izzy seemed nice… And if that kind of thing _ was _ normal here, it’s what was expected and everyone knew that was what happened, then… maybe splatling-boy hadn’t actually done anything wrong. She furrowed her brow, trying to understand that thought. Her own experience insisted splatting was _ bad, bad and wrong, don’t do it, ever, _ and yet… Seemingly she was the only one who thought that way. Was she?

She wished she could talk to C. Q. Cumber again. He always seemed to have some kind of answer or explanation. Flopped across the kitchen table, she stared at the CQ-80’s screen, wondering if her messages would ever send. Was there any way she could boost the signal somehow? This would be so much easier if she could see him face to face. 

Abruptly the thought occurred to her that she couldn’t do that, and it was possible she may never be able to again. There hadn’t been any clear way to return to the Deepsea Metro, after all. Had his farewell at Central Station been the last words they would ever exchange out loud? The shock of this revelation tightened her throat. He had been kind, and patient, he had helped her, and she hadn’t really done anything in return. Now she might never have a chance to do so, and she hadn’t even realised until it was too late. Had she even thanked him? Tears pricked at her eyes. He had been the first person in her entire life to show her compassion, and she might never get a chance to see him or speak to him again. 

Sheldon had lots of _ stuff _ around, maybe something could be used to boost the signal so she could at least message him. Swallowing the lump in her throat and blinking away the tears, she headed back downstairs. 

She arrived on the shop floor just in time to watch someone leave, and Sheldon was fiddling with a weapon, unscrewing its casing. He looked up as he heard the door behind the counter opening. 

“You’re back. Everything alright?” 

_ Not really. _She didn’t feel inclined to talk about what happened, so she skipped answering. “Have you got anything for amplifying signals?”

Sheldon thought for a moment. “No, not really. I have a couple old radars and things upstairs, and some might be able to send something if we set them up, but nothing to improve an existing signal. What for?”

Subject One showed him her CQ-80. “I got this when I was on the Deepsea Metro and before I could use it to message C. Q. Cumber but I think here we’re too far away for it to send anything.”

“I see,” Sheldon said, eyeing the device and adjusting his goggles. “Unfortunately my expertise is in weapons, I doubt I would be able to do much with that. Speaking of which...” He took the final screw out of the weapon's outer layer and removed it, ducking below the counter to rummage in the shelves. “Someone brought this in for repairs, saying it’s jammed.”

Subject One glanced at the ink gun with its innards now exposed. “The ink tube's caught.”

“What?” Sheldon popped up again with a toolbox in hand, looking at the tubing in question. It had gotten stuck between two of the mechanisms, pinched tight. “So it is! Well spotted. Hmm. It’s a good thing they noticed quickly, a jam like that could have ended up with the whole tube blowing if they kept trying to use it, and that would make for a much more difficult job. Now how did they manage to do that...?” He muttered to himself as he gently teased the tube free of its prison. 

“If there’s enough space, you could put a thick rubber ring around the tube to make it big enough that it won’t get stuck there again,” Subject One suggested. 

“I could indeed. I have just the thing,” he replied, digging around in the toolbox. “Have you done anything like this before?”

“A little. Not with weapons much, but I did learn a bit about engineering, and I took apart a microwave once to see inside and put it back together again.” The reconstruction process _ had _ ended up being a bit difficult, but with guidance from the speaker, she’d managed.

“I see!” Sheldon looked up at her, a spark in his eyes. “Perhaps you can help me here at the shop, then? We get things come in for repairs now and then, and if you have an eye for spotting the problematic parts, it would sure come in handy.”

Subject One nodded. “Sure.” She’d been hoping to be able to help him out some way or other anyway – this was a perfect opportunity. 

“Wonderful! I don’t actively advertise doing repairs since it’s only me here and depending on the damage it can be too time consuming and costly, but if you prove able to handle it that could be a new service for the shop. Here, it’s quiet now, so why not start practicing right away?” The little crab went to one of the display cases and pulled out a splat charger. “Try taking this apart and putting it back together.” 

Subject One took it over to the workbench – at a height that worked for its owner and so ridiculously low compared to her, she found it easiest to work at just sitting on the floor – and began unscrewing its outer shell. Taking the thing to pieces wasn’t too difficult, it was just a matter of finding where the screws were and taking them out. She kept track of how many there were and which came from where, putting them in little piles sorted by size. Putting it back together was more challenging. She got stuck a few times, occasionally putting a piece in only to realise it was wrong and having to dismantle it again, until Sheldon brought out a blueprint for its model. He stopped to watch her work every now and then as he went about the shop, humming occasional approval when she affixed something back in the right position. Once it was all back in place – hopefully all in the right places – she looked up at him.

“Nicely done,” he said with a smile. “Now let’s see if it’s working as it should.” Flipping a sign on the front door, he picked up the charger and walked past the stairs at the back to another section of the building, a wide area with targets moving here and there. Picking up an ink tank from by the door and charging up the weapon, he let a powerful shot loose at one of the targets, which shattered instantly. Nodding to himself, he activated its bomb dispenser, which quickly put a splat bomb into his hand. That too was tossed by one of the targets. Subject One shivered slightly as it sounded its warning, trying not to flinch as it went off. She watched as the crab strafed sideways and fired the weapon repeatedly, neatly covering the area in front of him. Soon he was engulfed by a flaring aura as the charger’s special was ready, and he fired it up. The sting ray reminded her of the lasers she’d passed on her way to the surface, and she idly wondered if they used the same kind of parts. 

“Flawlessly functional. Good work,” Sheldon said cheerfully, turning to head back to the shop. “Hmm, what to get you on next. Perhaps a brush, those can get pretty knocked about in all the close combat. They’re fairly simple, too.” 

Subject One followed him. “What about a splatling?” 

“If you’re looking for something more challenging, certainly! Try out the standard heavy splatling model.” He picked one up from one of the shelves for her, flipping the sign on the door again as he passed. “They can be a bit more fiddly but just call me over if you get stuck anywhere.” Setting it on the low work table, he found a blueprint for it and left her to get to work. 

The minutes ticked by as Subject One took it apart. True to Sheldon’s word, it was significantly more complicated than the charger, and dismantling it completely proved quite a task. At times while she worked she heard someone come into the shop, and felt glad the work bench was tucked away in an inconspicuous corner. People still kept staring at her, both those in the shop and those walking past outside, and it made her nervous. If she looked up and met their gaze, they’d often quickly look away again as if trying to disguise what they’d been doing, but she felt like they were back to watching her again as soon as she turned away. It was difficult to concentrate like this… She contemplated asking if she could take the work upstairs, but soon realised if she did that there was a high chance of losing screws and the other tinier parts along the way. Next time she’d have to ask while it was all still intact. 

Sighing quietly to herself, she tried to focus, adamantly keeping her gaze down whenever she heard the door. It didn’t help how self-conscious she felt, but if she wasn’t looking, she could at least pretend that they weren’t, either. 

Between the complexity of the splatling and the distractions, it took the best part of an hour just to take it apart. She hoped that it would become easier with practise – putting it back together properly would easily take twice as long, if not more. Would the model splatling-boy had used be easier or harder to work with, she wondered? She’d have to actually get the thing first. Her hearts sank as she realised that would mean having to go back to the lobby to ask about it. _ I don’t want to… _

She was snapped out of her thoughts as she realised one of the people who’d come into the shop was standing right in front of her. Subject One looked up at the inkling, wearing a facemask and a green cap propped sideways. Gold eyes watched her with scrutiny from under white hair. Nervous and unsure what to say, Subject One stared back. 

“This is what you had your tentacles in a twist about?” The voice was muffled slightly by the mask. 

“Well – as I mentioned to Agent One – she’s a bit… lost?” Sheldon said from behind the inkling. He looked at Subject One as if waiting for her to speak, but when she remained silent, did so himself. “She doesn’t even have a name. She doesn’t know anyone, she doesn’t have anywhere to go. Admittedly I’m less worried than I was this morning about any possible danger, but…” 

“If she’s not a threat then it’s not our problem. Looks like you’ve already found a job for her, pay her for it, she can find a place. Done.” 

“I don’t even know if we’ll get enough repair jobs in to justify an actual position yet,” Sheldon pointed out. “Much as I’d like to help, I can’t risk ruining my own finances in the process. Also if she has no name she clearly doesn’t have any kind of ID so she probably can’t even set up a bank account, at least not without jumping through a fair few hoops first. While I could easily pay cash in hand, you’ll be hard pressed to find a landlord who won’t become wary of someone who can’t set up their payments.” 

The inkling looked back down at Subject One. “What do _ you _think about all this, anyway?” 

Subject One blinked, a little surprised at the question. Looking down, she thought, unsure. 

“She-”

“Not asking you, Sheldon,” she said curtly. “Come on, speak up.” 

“Um…” Subject One began slowly. “I… don’t really know… I’ve only been here for a day, I don’t really know much about… here.” 

Sheldon looked like he was about to speak up again, but the inkling put her arm out to stop him as she spoke again. “Think you could live on your own?” 

“I always did before,” Subject One said, nodding. 

“Always?” Something seemed to shift in her eyes as she echoed that word, but Subject One couldn’t quite place what it was. 

“Yeah.” 

The inkling paused for the briefest moment, then dismissed whatever it was before turning back to Sheldon. “Decide on a wage for her, find a place, we’ll set it up with one of my accounts until she’s sorted out and you can just pay whatever portion of her wages would go on bills to me instead. There’s plenty of demand for a repair service, there’s no reason it won’t work out.” 

The little crab looked a little dissatisfied. “I’d really rather start up new business ventures completely of my own volition…” 

The inkling rolled her eyes. “How about as soon as you start advertising I start deliberately aiming at people’s weapons and we call it an under-the-table investment.” 

“That’s one way to secure customers, I suppose,” he replied reluctantly. “Fine.” 

Subject One watched their exchange silently, wondering if they were really serious about that last part. 

The inkling looked to her again. “You work on a name. You’re gonna need one, the sooner the better.” 

“What’s yours?” 

“I’m Agent Two.” 

“Isn’t that a codename?” 

“Yep. And that’s all you’re getting from me. I use it for a reason.” 

Subject One frowned. Telling her to get a name was all well and good, but couldn’t she get some advice on how to do that, or at least some more examples? Everyone told her to find a name, but no-one said how. It was incredibly frustrating.

Agent Two turned and headed to the door. “See ya later. Sheldon, let me know when you get a place sorted.” 

Sheldon sighed as she went. “Well, I suppose that’s one thing sorted, technically.” He wandered over to the counter, checking the time. “It’s about time to close up the shop. Do you want to stay down here working on that?” 

Subject One thought briefly, then nodded. There weren’t all too many people around outside to worry about looking at her now compared to the middle of the day, if she left it to tomorrow she would probably find herself struggling to concentrate again. 

“Good-o,” he replied, sounding pleased. He left her to it as he went about the closing procedure, cashing up the tills and putting the shutters down. 

_ Oh. Now no-one will see me for sure. _ Reassured to be closed off from the world, she immediately felt better. She watched as Sheldon went back upstairs, leaving with a request that she turn off the lights when she was done. 

The evening was quiet. She couldn’t hear or see anything from outside the shop, and she was alone. The familiarity of silent solitude was… a mixed feeling for her, now. It was what she was used to, to be sure, and all the noise and new of having people around was tiring, but… This reminded her of being at the test centre. The test centre where she had learned so much, but the last thing she learned there was _ too _much. Nineteen years’ worth of memories in that place had all changed with that one secret, all become tainted with a sick feeling of horror. 

Subject One pushed the feeling down, swallowing hard as she stood and headed upstairs. She wasn’t sure she liked being alone anymore.


	10. Silent apology

Subject One did not sleep well that night. She couldn’t remember any of the nightmares, but she must have had them, as every time she woke in the night – usually falling out of the tiny bed after shifting to full size in her fitful fidgeting – she was still afraid of whatever plagued her mind. When morning finally arrived, she didn’t feel rested at all, and had new bruises on one arm from falling on it. 

She went to stare out the window at the early summer light. At this time the square was still deserted, the only activity being the occasional fluttering of a bird flying across the street. Would the lobby be open? If she could go and ask about that splatling when it was still empty, that would be ideal. She needed some clean clothes, too. Maybe if she wore long sleeves and jeans instead of a t-shirt and shorts people would be less likely to notice her skin and stare at her… 

Wandering to the kitchen, she helped herself to cake for breakfast. There was less left than she remembered, so she supposed Sheldon must have tried some. She closed her eyes contentedly as she ate, eternally grateful for the existence of sweet things. Other things may be what they were, but cake existed, and that was wonderful. She heard footsteps as Sheldon came into the room, glancing at her and the cake in hand.

“_That’s _ what you’re having for breakfast?” he asked, slightly incredulous. 

Subject One blinked, nodding. “…Yes?” 

“It’s not exactly healthy. Speaking of which, didn’t you only make that yesterday? Have you seriously eaten half of the whole thing already?” 

She looked at the cake, incredibly diminished from its original size. _ Oh… it’ll be gone soon… _

“Didn’t you learn about nutrition at all?” 

She looked away sheepishly. “I did…” 

Sheldon sighed. “How old are you, anyway? You _ look _ like an adult, but… It’s hard to decipher your actions sometimes.” 

“Nineteen.” 

“So it _ is _ just a case of having never had anything role-modelled to you…” He shook his head. “That’s far too much sugar and fat to be eating at once. Don’t eat any more of that cake today.” 

_ Whaaaat? _ Subject One stared at him. He ignored her, putting the remainder of the cake in a cupboard. 

“If you really learned about nutrition, put that knowledge to use and eat decently. You can’t have just eaten like this before?”

She shook her head. “I never had sugar…” 

“Somehow I can see why,” Sheldon said dryly. “Though I suppose not having it at all means not having any chance to learn any self-restraint, either.” 

Finishing the slice she had, she stared wistfully out of the window. Sure, she knew in theory she should eat healthily, and it was true that she’d ended up feeling pretty queasy for a lot of yesterday after eating so much of the cake, but… She could just make up for it with more exercise, right? Or justify eating it as making up for the exercise she’d gotten climbing her way out of the Deepsea Metro. That had been exhausting. She was just… getting things back in balance. 

“Why not get back to work on that heavy splatling? I won’t be opening up the shop for another couple of hours, so it’ll be quiet.” 

Right, it was still early, with no-one about. “Will the lobby be open?” 

“Matches for today won’t start for a while yet, but the place itself will be open, yes.” 

Subject One stood, quickly going to the sink and rinsing the cake crumbs from her hands before heading to the stairs. 

“Are you going out?”

“Yeah.”

“The shutters are still down, you’ll have to use the back door.” 

“Okay.” 

Making her way outside and around to the front, she headed over to the lobby. There was still no-one around in the square, and the reception was empty bar a few jellyfish. Was the one at the desk the same one as before? She couldn’t really tell as she wandered over. 

“Hello! How can I help?” the jellyfish chirped in a friendly tone. 

“Uh… Yesterday there was… someone with a splatling that got thrown into the water at…” Where had it been again? 

“Oh, at Starfish Mainstage! Yes, I heard about that. Quite a fiasco, the poor boy was terribly upset from what I gather.” 

Subject One felt her insides squirm, uncomfortable. “Is there any way to get it back?” 

The jellyfish paused to think. “Hmm… I suppose if the current hasn’t moved it, it should be possible to fish it out. A splatling is heavy enough that it might still be in roughly the same spot, presuming it wasn’t a mini. I doubt it’ll be in any usable shape, though. Why did you want it?”

“So I can repair it.” 

“I see. Well, I suppose its owner did seem to have given up on it… Perhaps the stage renovators will have something we can use to get it out. Leave me your contact details and I can find out and let you know.” 

_ Contact details? _ If the CQ-80 worked, she supposed that would count, but given the lack of messages, it didn’t seem to. “I don’t have any…” 

“Oh. Come back later, then. If you return at the end of the day I’m sure by then we’ll have been able to find out if we can get it for you.” 

“Okay.” 

Well, that was something, at least. She made her way back to Ammo Knights. 

She lingered on the shop floor. The shutters were still down, but sunlight was managing to spill through the cracks here and there. She liked sunlight. It wasn’t exactly much different from artificial light, but it held a certain warmth that felt pleasant on her skin. She wandered to one of the almost-covered windows, holding her hand out in a stray sunbeam. If she stayed down here to work on putting the splatling back together, would it be fine to open the shutters so the light could come in? It would mean she was visible to everyone outside, but currently that number of people was rather small... 

She went upstairs to ask Sheldon. He said it was fine as long as she stayed down there and checked the sign on the door definitely displayed as 'Closed', explaining how to operate the shutters. Once they were open, the light didn’t quite reach into the corner the workbench was in, but it wasn’t too difficult to pull it into a more central position, if only for now. Sitting down with sun on her back, she set to work putting the heavy splatling back together. 

Yesterday she had struggled to make much headway, but she felt she could focus now. The only distraction was the pleasant warm feeling of the sunlight. With the blueprints in hand for guidance, she was able to make her way through her task, slowly reassembling the complex weapon. By the time Sheldon came down to the shop floor, it was mostly done. 

“Doing well with that, I see!” 

Subject One looked up at being spoken to, nodding. 

“See if you can get it all back together in the next half hour before I open, we can take it out back and give it a whirl. On another note I had a quick look at flats nearby, there are a couple that are reasonably priced and not too far off from here.”

“Uh... Okay.” She didn’t really know the first thing about house hunting... 

“Do you have any idea what kind of place you’d prefer? Any requirements?”

“Not really...” 

“Right... I suppose it wouldn’t be much use you going to view a place on your own, then...” His voice dropped to a mutter, more to himself than to her.

She left him to his ruminations, turning her attention back to the reconstruction of the splatling. The hard part was all but done now, it was just reaffixing one of the inner parts and getting the casing back into place. When everything was already in place, it was a lot easier to work out where the last piece went, and she soon had it all screwed together. 

Once all back in one hopefully functional piece, she stretched. It wasn’t all that comfortable sitting on the floor. Shoving the work desk back into its corner, she took the splatling over to Sheldon. 

“Done,” she said. _ Hopefully. _ It had been rather more intricate than the charger, and she was less confident that everything would be quite as it was meant to. 

“Good work!” Sheldon said cheerily. The shop was still empty, and he beckoned to her to follow him through to the testing range. She did so, picking up the splatling as she went. He did as before, checking how it performed. “Hmm. The aim is a little wonky, seems like the pressure is off… Otherwise it’s perfectly fine. So you’ll need to take off the casing and check the ink pump, it might be a little too tightly clamped.” 

Subject One nodded, a little disappointed that she hadn’t gotten it quite right. She took it back from him and headed back to the shop floor. True to his word, she’d secured the ink pump back to the barrels just a bit tighter than necessary. At least that was an easy fix. She loosened it and they tried it once more, this time seeing it work to Sheldon’s standards. 

Sheldon was more than happy to provide her with more weapons to take apart and reconstruct, and her day was spent just doing that, although she took her work upstairs now that the shop was open. An octobrush, some splat dualies, a blaster. She had found the blaster trickier than the rest, having to try three times to get it back to being perfectly functional again. That said, when it didn’t work the first time, she worked out what was wrong herself, insisting that Sheldon not just tell her what it was. She found she liked working it out for herself, although her lack of experience using them meant if there wasn’t an obvious deviation from normal performance she didn’t always notice. Then again, if her job was to be repairs, presumably people would only bring things in for it if they had noticed something wrong themselves and would be able to tell her what the problem was. 

She kept to herself, happy to work alone upstairs. She had opened a window and could hear the people coming and going outside, and the room was bright with natural light. The background noise was a little unusual to her, but she was grateful for it, for any clear difference between here and the test centre, between now and then, to keep her grounded. Her solitude was only interrupted in late afternoon, once Sheldon had closed up the shop and come back upstairs. 

“I’ve organised a viewing at one of the flats I mentioned earlier for you, it’s tomorrow at midday,” he said as he saw her. “Since I’ll be here at the shop as it’s during my open hours, I’ve asked Agents One and Two if one of them can go with you.” 

_ Oh yeah. That. _ Subject One looked up from the squiffer she was working on currently. “So… what does a viewing involve?”

“It’s pretty simple, you just go look at the place and see if you like it. While there you can ask any questions you might have about the property, like if it’s noisy, or how are the internet speeds for the area. If you decide it’s suitable for you to live in, then you can make an offer on it. Although I suppose that part we’ll handle ourselves, if only because it involves the financial side of things…”

“Okay.” Subject One didn’t really know what else to say, given her absolute lack of experience in the matter. Another something new to try, she supposed. She abruptly remembered her enquiry at the lobby that morning – would now be the time to go and ask about that splatling again? She supposed so, standing and wandering to the door. 

“Heading out again?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m about to start making dinner, so don’t be too long.” 

“Okay.” 

Making her way downstairs and outside, she went to the lobby, approaching the counter. The jellyfish attending it seemed to recognise her, and not in a negative way, so presumably it was the same one as from that morning and not one that had been present yesterday. 

“Hello again! I was hoping you would be back soon, we were able to recover that ballpoint splatling.”

“Oh,” Subject One said briefly as the jellyfish reached under the counter to produce the weapon in question. _ That was fast. _ “Thank you.” 

“As it turned out, the renovation team still had on site one of the cherry pickers, and they were able to get it out when the stage was out of rotation. It’s a bit of a mess, though.” 

Subject One could see through the clear section of the casing the amount of water that had seeped into it. Hopefully the damage would be limited to just the water and it wouldn’t have been broken too much by the impact when she had thrown it. She picked it up, holding it against her chest as she walked back to the shop. It was heavy, and she wondered how much of that weight was the actual splatling and how much was the waterlogging. 

Bringing it upstairs, she picked up the tools on her way and took it all to the kitchen. Sheldon spotted her as she began unscrewing the casing, ready with a tea towel for the leaking water working its way free through any gap it found. 

“What _ happened _to that?” he asked, sounding personally offended by the state of it. “What a shocking state to allow a weapon to get to!”

Subject One said nothing, reluctant to admit to her involvement. Removing the last screw, she took it to the sink before removing the casing, tipping the water down the drain. “Will it need any treatment because of the water or will it be fine just drying it off? It was in the water for about a day.” 

“Hmmm...” Sheldon paused from his cooking, scrutinising the weapon’s exposed innards. “It doesn’t look like it’s rusted, so it might be fine just being wiped off. My concern would be with making sure no water gets left in any of the joints. The whole thing will need to be taken apart at every turn and thoroughly dried...” 

“Do you have acetone?” 

“Um... No.” 

Subject One’s face fell slightly. Drying everything by hand would be tedious, and the parts still tightly connected would ideally have to be dried as soon as exposed so it wouldn’t rust once in contact with the air. “Can you get some?”

“What even is acetone?” 

“A solvent. It’s miscible with water and evaporates easily at room temperature and doesn’t react with metals so it’d make drying this really easy.” 

“I... don’t think that’s something that would be readily available.”

“Oh.” _ Why not? _ Subject One settled for wiping off the already exposed parts of the splatling, trying to remove as much moisture as possible. She sat at the little table as she did so, and the kitchen steadily filled with the smell of Sheldon’s cooking – a lentil curry. Every so often he would look over and shake his head, giving out a disappointed sigh and muttering about lack of care for one’s weapons. She felt a twinge of guilt at his judgement of some supposed stranger being nonchalant about upkeep when it was her own fault. 

Would she even see splatling-boy again? Even if she did manage to get it fully repaired, how would she return it to him? That said, even if she _ could _ see him to give it back, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. He had been so angry before. She fidgeted as she worked, uncomfortable. _ What should I do...? _

“So where did you find that, anyway?” Sheldon asked as he brought two plates over, and she cleared her work from the table to make space. 

_ Uhhh. _ “It... got thrown in the water yesterday.” 

“It’s kind of obvious that you’re deliberately omitting something when your eyes are darting all over the place like that,” he remarked as he set down cutlery. 

She tried – unsuccessfully – to shrink into her seat, hunching over the food and saying nothing. 

“You realise I can still ask questions even if you don’t answer, and have a good chance at guessing the answer based on the fact it’s usually written all over your face? I can tell you had something to do with it, you seriously don’t look like you have a clear conscience right now.” 

_ Leave me alone... _ She stared down at the curry as she ate, unable to look at him. 

“So I’m guessing it was you who threw it. Why?” 

Her insides squirmed uncomfortably, and she fidgeted, curling her toes. She still couldn’t bring herself to say anything. After a minute of awkward silence and failing to find her voice, she stood, picking up the plate and going to sit down in the sitting room to eat instead. 

“You can’t just- walk away from conversations you don’t like!” she heard Sheldon say incredulously, but he didn’t follow. She heard an exasperated sigh, and no more. 

Even if she wasn’t being asked about it anymore, the uncomfortable feeling remained, sitting with her. The evening wore on slowly, and she avoided the topic every time Sheldon tried to bring it up again, and eventually he gave up. She quickly decided to go to bed, leaving the splatling tucked in a corner of the sitting room and hoping that if she slept she might feel better when she woke up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: acetone actually is very available. its the main thing in nail polish remover unless u get specifically acetone free stuff. i dont reckon sheldon cares much for nail polish remover tho and it probs isnt pure enough to use as a solvent in that form tho so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	11. Overwhelming

Subject One woke up early after another fitful night. At least she hadn’t fallen out of the bed this time. The sun still hung fairly low in the sky, and she moved to the window to stand in its light. It wasn’t particularly warm yet, so she supposed the day must still be young. 

Wandering to the bathroom to shower, she saw her old shirt hung up on a drying rack along with other laundry, so Sheldon must have cleaned it. Swapping for the clean option after washing, she made her way to the kitchen. Opening the cupboards to rummage for breakfast, she spotted the cake tin. _ Technically_, when Sheldon said not to eat any more, he’d said that was enough _ for the day_, and today was a different day… Then again, that whole conversation had been prompted by her having it for breakfast in the first place. She fought the urge to have it anyway, reluctantly turning away from it and opting for eggs and toast instead. 

Glancing at the clock display on the front of the electric stove, she realised it really was early - not even six am. She had no idea what sort of time Sheldon might wake up, but if she remembered rightly from the shop sign, it didn’t open until nine, so he wouldn’t need to be up any time soon. She didn’t feel like going back to sleep in that tiny bed though, so she instead decided to get working on the ballpoint splatling, taking it to the sitting room to work on. 

Steadily taking it apart and wiping down all the parts where water still clung, she slowly managed to detach all the pieces and dry it all off just fine. Some of the screws had already begun to rust after the wet areas were exposed to air overnight, and were stiff and stubborn, but eventually gave way. Laying out the pieces, she made sure they were all as dry as could be, and sorted the most damaged parts into a pile. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been at it when she heard Sheldon in the kitchen. Looking up, she hesitated slightly before moving. _ I hope he doesn’t try to ask about it again… _

Somewhat reluctantly, she stood and went to the kitchen, speaking before he would have a chance to. “Do you have rust remover?” 

“At it already, eh? There’s some downstairs in the shop.”

“Okay.” 

“And _ before _ you go anywhere,” he began sternly, and she shied away, cringing. “I can see you realise you did something wrong from the fact you’re bothering to fix it, but don’t do anything like that again. On top of it being - well, vandalism, theft, whatever - it’s also going to affect the reputation of my store, if you’re going to be an employee.” 

Feeling small, Subject One’s voice caught in her throat. She nodded meekly before shuffling out of the room. 

“It’s on the shelf below the counter,” Sheldon called as she headed down the stairs. 

She found it easily enough, and brought it back upstairs, reading the instructions as she went. She took a bowl from the kitchen to put the affected parts in and sprayed them, then left it on the side. It would have to soak in for a few hours before it would be ready to scrub off. When she returned downstairs to put the remover back where she found it, Sheldon followed, pulling out a different spray product and handing it to her. 

“Treat it with this after you’re done. It’s probably unnecessary, but in the event of any future water damage, it’ll prevent it from rusting as easily in the first place.” 

She nodded and took it upstairs to leave by the bowl as he set up, getting the shop ready to open. She’d need a blueprint to help her put it back together again, too, but she could find one later. She wandered back down, wondering what she’d do while waiting for the rust remover to set in. 

“By the way, Agent One agreed to go with you to the viewing,” Sheldon said as she walked into the room. “She’s got spare time today. I also asked her to help you with getting some more clothes. If anyone’s willing to help with clothes shopping, it’s her...”

“Oh. Okay.” 

“She can be quite enthusiastic about that, so who knows, she might arrive quite soon. I have no idea how much time she’d want to set aside for it. In any case, you might not want to get too stuck into anything in the meantime.” 

Subject One nodded, looking vaguely around the shop. She supposed she shouldn’t wander off outside, then, but what to do in here? Her eyes settled on the drawers of one of the cabinets, and she vaguely remembered seeing Sheldon taking blueprints out of it at one point. She went to rummage through, looking for the one she’d need. She heard the shop’s bell chiming behind her, and looked around to see who it was coming in in case it was Agent One. 

It was not. A chill ran through her as she locked eyes with splatling-boy.

“You! I _ thought _ I remembered seeing you here!” 

Sheldon blinked in surprise from behind the counter at the angry outburst as Subject One froze. 

“You’re not getting out of it this time, you weirdo freak,” he spat, stalking over to her. “I’m not leaving until you’ve done something to pay me back for my splatling.” 

She shivered, trying to back away from him but just bumped into the cabinet behind her. _ What do I do, what do I- _

“Calm down before I kick you out of my shop,” Sheldon said as he walked over. “I can see there’s a disagreement here but there’s no need to act so threatening.” 

“A _ disagreement?! _ You must remember selling me that ballpoint splatling just a couple days ago. And on the same day I got it, in pretty much the first match I was using it, _ she _ chucked it in the freakin’ _ sea_!” 

“That’s no excuse to come in my shop and throw insults around,” Sheldon said, sighing heavily. Subject One shuffled around to stand behind him, trembling slightly as he continued. “She also went and fetched it, and has been working on repairing it. Now, I know ideally it would never have happened in the first place, but we can have it back to you in full working order by tomorrow morning - if anything, in even better condition as it’ll have been freshly serviced. If you prefer, I have more in stock, and you can take one of those instead.”

He huffed. “What, and you think that’s good enough? This is probably some kind of scam, why else would some creep working for you have busted my weapon the day I got it?”

Sheldon stared at him incredulously. “What would I have to gain from that? Don’t make such absurd accusations. There’s no way we could even have guaranteed her being in a match with you. There is literally no way it would benefit me to send someone to break my own wares immediately after selling them and then have them repair or replace it free of charge. That’s just wasting time that could be spent elsewhere.” 

Splatling-boy narrowed his eyes, but couldn’t seem to think up any rebuttal. “Fine. I’ll take the first one I got. But it _ better _ be as good as new, if not better.” 

“Rest assured, it will be up to the highest of standards.” 

He shot Subject One a menacing glare before turning to leave. “Stupid freak,” he muttered loudly as he went, making sure it would be audible. 

“Don’t make me ban you from my shop,” Sheldon called after him as he went. The door closed, and he sighed. “Man, that was just unpleasant.” 

Subject One realised tears had formed in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away but only succeeded in pushing them out to roll down her face. Tense and fearful, she felt tight all over, like a pulled-out spring trying to snap back to its usual shape. 

“Anyway, that’s why we don’t go around breaking people’s things,” Sheldon said, turning and looking up at her. “Oh. Erm, why don’t you go upstairs for a bit? Go calm down where it’s quiet.” 

She sniffed, nodding bleakly. Once alone in the sitting room, she allowed herself to cry, sobbing mutedly. _ I didn’t know! I didn’t know… _ She hadn’t been _ trying _ to do anything wrong. She listlessly wandered the room, unable to sit down but not sure what she was hoping for. Something… 

Her slow pacing continued and eventually her breathing steadied, the tightness in her throat faded, the fear drained away. Finally relaxed again, she sat for a moment, suddenly feeling tired. She felt like she could nap, but given they didn’t know when Agent One would arrive, she supposed she shouldn’t. Sighing heavily, she stood and went to the bathroom, washing her face off. Catching sight of her reflection in the mirror above the low sink, she paused. Squatting down on her haunches, she looked at the blank copy of her face. Black eyes with blue irises stared back, so completely different to all the ones she’d seen on the surface, every pair that had stared at her. The oddly placed fangs of her top jaw jutted out beneath her lip, the overbite leaving them exposed in their natural sitting position. The green of her skin that she’d never really thought anything of before suddenly seemed strange compared to all the inklings and octolings she’d seen. Splatling-boy’s parting words echoed in her head. 

_ Freak. _

Was that what she was? 

_ I didn’t ask to be like this. _

She felt fresh misery rising and stood, turning away from the mirror. Everything felt like it was just too much. She’d not had to deal with anything like this before - not had to deal with people, or messing up, or the consequences of that. Not to mention everything that had happened before she arrived on the surface. There was just too much to deal with crammed into such a short space of time, she could barely keep up. Couldn’t everything just stop for a while?

She flopped on the sofa, pressing her face into a pillow. She almost wished she could go back to when the only problems she had to handle were difficult tests. Almost. This new life forced on her may be difficult, but she still shuddered at the thought of ever going back to the test centre now, burdened with knowledge of its purpose. 

She lay there for a while and supposed she must have drifted off anyway, because the next thing she knew she was awoken by the sound of someone opening the front door of the flat. 

“‘Sup!” Agent One called through the flat as she let herself in. “You doing okay? Sheldon said something happened.” 

Subject One sat up, still feeling dejected. She considered the question for a long while before answering. “...I’m not sure,” she said truthfully. 

“Yeah? Well, shopping trips always make me feel better, so how about we get going?” 

“Okay.” She stood and followed Agent One back down the stairs. 

“Sheldon, you chipping in on costs? Taking it out of wages or whatever?” 

“I suppose I should. Will you actually stick to a budget if I give you one, though?”

“Probably not,” Agent One admitted. “Okay, it’s fine. It’s not like I’m strapped for cash and hey, it’s giving me an excuse to go check out all the clothes stores, so!” 

She strode out of Ammo Knights with nary a word more, eager to get going. Subject One glanced at Sheldon, who seemed content enough with that arrangement. Meeting her gaze, he nodded after Agent One. “Go on, then.” 

She followed Agent One out of the shop, who had paused outside to wait for her. 

“Y’know, I didn’t notice last time, but isn’t that shirt you’re wearing octarian armour? Why do you have that?” she asked as she headed into one of the other nearby shops.

Subject One shrugged. “It’s just what I was wearing before. Don’t know where it came from.” 

“Huh,” she replied briefly. “Weird. Anyway, first stop is Jelfonzo’s place. He has all the freshest shirts, jumpers, jackets, all that stuff. What kind of stuff do you like most?” 

“Um…” Subject One hadn’t exactly been exposed to much in the ways of fashion choice, or clothing options in general. At the test centre she’d just worn whatever was there. Looking around, she spotted a hoodie. “That looks comfy?” 

“Hoodies are a definite top call for comfort,” Agent One agreed, immediately heading over to the rack. “What size are you? I’d guess, large?” 

“Don’t know.” 

“Have you never got clothes before?” 

“No…” 

Agent One let out a shocked gasp, and Subject One couldn’t tell if it was deliberately exaggerated or not. “What?! You’ve been _ deprived! _ In that case it’s a good thing we’re not on any budget from Sheldon, we’re going all out.” She rummaged through the rack, pulling off a large purple zip-up hoodie. “Here, try this on.” 

Undoing the zip, Subject One pulled it on over the top of her shirt. It fit decently. Agent One walked in a circle around her, appraising it. 

“Looks like that’s the right fit. Okay, good! Now I know what I’m looking for.” 

Subject One blinked and watched as she ruffled through the rest of the hanger’s contents, pulling out more hoodies. Another zipped one with a camo pattern, a maroon one with a brand name on the front, a grey one with another brand name, a black one similar to the grey one, a couple of striped sweaters and one last zip hoodie with plant motifs. “Try these!” 

Subject One pulled off the purple hoodie and obediently put on each of the ones Agent One had picked out, watching quietly as she looked her up and down each time and sorting the tried ones into two piles. 

“Okay, we’re keeping these. Those can go back on the rack. Next up is shirts, gotta wear stuff under the hoodies too.” 

Subject One silently helped put the rejected hoodies back on their hangers and followed over to the shirts, letting Agent One chatter away as they did. 

“You know, something about you reminds me of _ something_, but I can’t quite tell what. Like, I had that feeling when I saw you the first time, but it’s still bugging me and I can’t work it out, it’s really annoying.” 

Hadn’t Iso Padre said something like that when she was on the Deepsea Metro? Though he was probably talking about the sanitized octarians. Would Agent One have ever seen anything like that up here on the surface? Subject One quietly began to worry. Was her hope of leaving that behind in the deep misguided after all?

She was distracted from her thoughts as she saw Agent One begin to pull things off the rack, starting with a teal t-shirt. 

“Um…” She wasn’t sure if she should interrupt when Agent One was clearly enjoying going through them all and considering what to pick out, but…

“Yeah?” 

“I think… I want long sleeve things.” 

Agent One paused to look at her, and she looked away, rubbing her arm self-consciously. 

“Okay, I getcha. Long sleeves it is.” 

Subject One looked back at her, and she offered a reassuring smile before turning to return the shirt, swapping it for a layered pair of shirts, a black long sleeve under a red t-shirt with an anchor that she handed to Subject One. “Stuff like this might get a bit warm in summer, but they’re worth having the rest of the year anyway, right?” 

Taking the shirt, Subject One nodded, unsure if it was seen. Looking around the shop, she paused. It wouldn’t fit properly over the top of her current shirt like the hoodies. “Where do I put it on…?”

“Oh, there’s a changing room over there,” she replied, gesturing vaguely at one end of the shop. Distracted as she was by her task, it wasn’t particularly accurate, but after looking around the general area she’d pointed at, Subject One soon saw the signposted rooms. Changing into the shirt and folding the one she’d worn over one arm, she wandered back out for Agent One to see. 

“Ooh, that looks great on you, definite keeper,” she said, and handed three more shirts over. “I wanna see them all on you, come find me with each of them, okay?” 

Subject One nodded before going to change again. Her own criteria was limited to say the least - she only cared about comfort, really. Any thoughts of what looked good or not were lost to her so she was more than happy to let Agent One take the reins on deciding what to actually get or not. Having to go in and out of the changing rooms each time made it take longer than with the hoodies, but by the time they were done Agent One had picked out around a dozen shirts for her. 

“Jackets! Can’t be leaving without jackets,” she chirped as she headed to the next area of interest. Subject One was beginning to wonder just how long this would take. Hadn’t she described this as their ‘first stop’? How many shops would they be going to? 

“Zekko do a bunch of great jackets. Like this one! It makes Judd look so cool, like he’s roaring. Dunno if anyone’s ever seen him do that, though,” Agent One nattered away as she passed the satin jacket over. “I bet teal looks great on you.” 

Subject One put down the armful of clothes already picked out to pull on the jacket, watching Agent One nod in approval. “Called it! It goes great with your eyes.” 

Subject One cast her glance aside, not sure how she felt about that. Agent One didn’t seem to notice, having already turned to the rack. “The zapfish one is cool too, try that!” 

Swapping jackets, Agent One seemed to decide this was another good one and turned back to the rest of the selection.

“Um… Are we done yet?” 

Agent One looked up as Subject One folded the jacket and put it with the rest of the growing pile of clothes. “Hmm. I guess we _ do _ have to carry all that, plus whatever else we get in the other shops. Okay, two jackets is plenty for now!” 

Jelfonzo watched gleefully at the pile of clothes they piled onto the counter - a total of four hoodies, ten shirts and two jackets. “Thou art too kind. Thank thee for thy patronage, and do return! Thou shalt be welcome any time,” he said as he bagged up their purchases. 

“Y’know, seeing as we’re right here anyway, we may as well leave this stuff at Sheldon’s before we get the rest,” Agent One said, leading the way back to Ammo Knights. “No point in carrying it all around, right?” 

Subject One agreed quietly as they entered the shop, Sheldon looking over at them as they entered. 

“Oh, you’re done already?” He asked. “I had the feeling you’d be a while longer than that.” 

“Oh, we’re nowhere _ near _ done,” Agent One said, grinning. “Just dropping off the current spoils.” 

“...Right.” Sheldon said nothing more as they deposited the bags in the sitting room upstairs. 

“Why not change into some of your new stuff?” Agent One suggested. 

Subject One looked through the bags, pulling out a blue longsleeve shirt with a logo on it. Going to the room she slept in to change, she found she liked the new shirt a lot. It was comfortable, and covered her up. If only she had something other than these fairly-dirty shorts to wear it with. 

Agent One gave her a thumbs-up as she walked back in the room. “Lookin’ good! Let’s go. Arowana Mall is next up!” She wasted no time in heading right back down the stairs and out the shop. Subject One followed, somewhat thankful that her longer legs let her keep pace with relative ease - she had a feeling the inkling was rushing. 

Agent One guided her through the streets until they came to the mall. “This place is great. It has tons of different shops, and the center area gets used for turf matches and stuff! They aren’t on right now, but sometimes you can watch from the shops. I like getting to root for people as I go. ...I don’t usually catch the results, though.” 

_ I think I’m glad they’re not on. _ The thought of looking out a shop window to see someone getting splatted was not a particularly pleasant one. Pausing as she thought, she didn’t realise she was dawdling until Agent One grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards one of the shops. 

“C’mon, this way! If you want the best jeans, shorts, skirts, you name it, this is the place to get it.” 

She was stronger than her body frame gave away, Subject One noted as she was near enough dragged into the shop. 

“Some people act like legwear doesn’t really matter but the right bottoms can really make or break an outfit, y’know? It’s a vital aspect of your coordination! If you neglect it, the whole thing falls apart.” 

This branch of conversation was completely out of Subject One’s depth, so she just blindly nodded along. 

“Now if you’re looking to cover up, leggings are a good bet for summer, not as hot as trousers or jeans.”

_ Oh. _ “Did I actually say that out loud?” Subject One murmured to herself. 

Agent One looked to her with a sincere expression. “No, but, I get it.” 

Unsure of what to say, Subject One watched her, grateful. Did she imagine Agent One’s hand twitching at her side? She wasn’t sure. 

Agent One turned back to the leggings, picking out a purple pair. “Oooh, these are nice. And these…” She handed both to Subject One and pointed her to the dressing room. After another round of repeated changing, they eventually left the store, now with two pairs of jeans, three pairs of trousers, a couple pairs of leggings, one skirt Agent One had convinced Subject One to get, saying “You can always put on leggings underneath!” and a much healthier supply of underwear. More than happy to swap for cleaner clothes, Subject One had changed into a pair of jeans in the changing room before they left.

“We should get you some shoes too, while we’re out anyway. Those boots are looking like they’ve seen better days.” 

“When was the… house thing again?” 

“The viewing? At half twelve, right? What’s the time now?” 

Agent One pulled her phone out to check. “Oh, shoot! It’s in ten minutes. Oh great, what was the address again…” 

Scrolling through her messages to find the address and plugging it into her gps, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, it’s not far from here, actually. We should still be able to make it on time if we walk fast.” She quickly marched off in the direction her phone led, and Subject One followed. Agent One could really dash when she wanted to, Subject One impressed at how quickly she strode. Was she used to being late or was she just energetic?

They arrived just a minute or two past the meeting time, not late enough for it to be a problem. They stood outside a large building, and Subject One looked up to see a fair few windows and balconies stretching out above. Outside the building, a suited sea urchin waited, clipboard in hand. 

“Ah, are you here for the viewing?” 

“Yep, that’s us!” Agent One said, a little breathless from speed-walking the whole way. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m James. Let’s head in.” 

He gave Subject One a curious look as he gave his name, but if he had any questions, he didn’t ask them. Brushing it off, he pulled some keys out of his pocket and waved a fob at a reader by the door. 

“So there’s a key card for the front door as well as a key to the door to the actual flat, so it’s pretty secure,” he said as he showed them in. “The flat’s on the first floor. No elevator, but walking up and down stairs’ll keep you fit, eh?”

“How are the neighbours around here?” Agent One asked as they went up.

“Pretty good, we’ve never had any complaints. We’ve handled a couple of these flats, the people who moved in all seemed decent.” 

“Doesn’t smell of damp in the corridors, that’s always a good sign,” Agent One murmured aside to Subject One. 

“So the place is fully furnished,” the estate agent said as he opened up the apartment, leading directly into a living room. There was a sofa against one wall, a tv stand on the opposite and a decently sized coffee table between them. By another wall was a bookshelf next to a door to another room. Directly ahead of them was another doorway through to what looked like a kitchen.

“Oooh. Tasteful,” Agent One remarked appreciatively, tracing a hand along the arm of the sofa and inspecting her finger for dust. 

“Isn’t it? The landlord has a good eye. Here’s the kitchen, with all your standard white goods, a fridge-freezer, washing machine, oven,” he continued, gesturing at each machine in turn before opening some of the cupboards to show the plates and pans inside. “Plenty of crockery and everything.” 

Agent One went to the sink and turned the tap, holding a finger under the stream to feel the temperature. “How long has this place been on the market, then?”

“It just opened up about a week ago. If that takes a while to heat up, it might just be because the place isn’t in use at the moment,” the sea urchin said. “Though the whole block has one big boiler, so you don’t need to worry about whether there’ll be enough hot water, it’s pretty much always going.” 

He took them back through the living room and through another door. “Here’s the bathroom. Not too big, but has everything a bathroom needs.” 

Agent One took it upon herself to inspect the shower, turning it on. “Hmm. Water pressure’s a bit low.” 

“Oh, they always turn down the pressure around this time of year,” he explained. Once Agent One had cast her eye over the rest of the room he led them back to the living room and from there to the bedroom. 

“As you can see, it’s a nice spacious bedroom. You’ve got a double bed, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe, a little bedside cabinet too. And there’s a little balcony just out there.”

It was easily the biggest room of the flat, and a pair of windows looked out from above the bed. On the same wall was a door to the aforementioned balcony.

“Not sure I’d have that there,” Agent One muttered. 

“Well, if you move in, you’re obviously free to rearrange things however you like.”

Subject One wandered around the bedside to look out the windows. It showed a view of a courtyard outside the flat. Agent One went to the small balcony, looking out. 

“Ooh. One of those plant boxes with hanging flowers would be great here.” 

“Feel free to look around the rooms all you like, chat about it,” the estate agent said, going back through to the living room.

“What d’you think?” Agent One asked. 

“Um…” Subject One thought. “It’s… nice?” 

“Gotta hand it to Sheldon, he did pick somewhere decent. Apart from the shower being a bit weak and maybe wanting a little rearranging, it seems pretty good to me.” 

“Okay.” 

Agent One looked at her, seeming expectant. When Subject One said nothing more, she spoke up again. “So..? Think you’d be happy living here? Are we making an offer or what?” 

“Oh. Uh, sure. Yes.”

“Nice. Sorted.” Agent One went back to the living room, presumably to talk to the estate agent. Subject One hung back, staring out the window. She idly wondered what things Agent One was thinking should move. With the bed backed up against the window, it would be nice to have the sunlight shining in to wake up to. Though maybe if they just rotated it, that would still be true but it’d be easier to get at the windows for opening and closing. Hmm. 

She made her way back to the others, who seemed to have been quick to sort out moving the offer forwards. The sea urchin was saying something about sending emails with forms to fill out, smiling cheerfully. They soon made their way back out of the building, parting ways. 

“Well, that went pretty well! It’s nice to find somewhere you like on the first go. Usually I’d check out a few more places before making a decision, but situation considered, it’s probably better to just move things along faster.”

Subject One nodded in agreement. It would be nice to sleep in a bed that she could actually fit in, the sooner the better. 

“Guess we should head back to Sheldon’s. Sadly, my free time is running out. Maybe if we’re quick we can fit in a visit to Shella Fresh on the way…” 

Tired, Subject One hoped that maybe there wouldn’t be time for that. She appreciated everything Agent One was doing for her, but she was getting worn out. She followed quietly as Agent One lead the way back to the galleria. Once back in Inkopolis Square, Agent One checked the time on her phone and sighed, a little dejected. 

“No time for shoes, I gotta dash. Here’s your stuff, thanks for indulging me!”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” Subject One asked as she took the bag. 

“True, but it doesn’t seem like this is your thing, and you still let me pretty much play dress-up, so! But yeah gotta go, so I’ll catch you later.”

“Oh.” Subject One barely had time to say anything more before she’d gone. Making her way back into Ammo Knights, she walked past Sheldon - engaged in telling a customer about the latest model of dualies to come out - and took her new clothes upstairs. Grabbing the things they’d left in the sitting room earlier and taking the lot to the little spare bedroom, she flopped on the little bed. Hopefully she’d be able to move there soon.

* * *

Callie made her way to the cabin set up outside Tentakeel Outpost, glancing around to see if anyone was watching as she slipped through the grate to Octo Canyon. The New Squidbeak Splatoon was having a meeting - not an overly common occasion, but with the acquisition of Agent Eight who was new to the surface and with Agent Three having suffered that strange injury, they’d thought it a good idea to check in with everyone. When she arrived, Marie and their grandfather were already there, along with Eight. 

“Here you are. Just waiting on Three and Four then,” Marie said.

“Mm-hmm! You’ll be getting e-mails about that flat, it was a good place.” 

“More work, I’m so glad,” Marie said dryly. 

“You’re the one who agreed to it,” Callie reminded her. 

“Sheldon better not make a habit of picking up strays, I won’t do it again.”

The grate rattled again, and another inkling popped up - Ash, their Agent Four, wearing their usual baseball jersey, backwards cap and sunglasses. They probably couldn’t look more casual if they tried.

“‘Sup,” they said with a cheery wave as they approached the group.

“You’re actually not the last person to arrive. I’m amazed,” Marie said. 

“Just goes to show, I _ can _be on time, if I want,” Ash replied.

“You’re still late,” Marie pointed out.

“Hm. Guess so. Oh well, I tried.” 

“I’m not sure you did,” the idol replied, smirking.

It wasn’t long until their last member arrived, and Callie glanced over at the grate as it rattled just in time to see Badger just about launch herself out of it, landing with a flourish. When she saw she was being watched, she dropped her head, throwing her arms out to one side and almost flinging her squidvader cap and the sunglasses she’d adopted to the ground.

“Did you _ actually _just dab at us?” Ash asked, grinning.

Whipping her head back up, Badger looked at who commented, giving an awkward nod as she walked over. Eight, quietly sat on the bench until then, smiled at Badger, waving. She waved back before stuffing her hands in the pockets of her macha down jacket, moving to stand by Callie and Marie. 

“That’s everyone, then! New Squidbeak Splatoon, assembled!” Cap’n Cuttlefish said. “What word is there of the octarian menace?” 

“We didn’t come here to talk about that, Gramps,” Marie reminded him. 

“Oh. Well, it’s jolly good to see everyone at once, nevertheless.”

“Eight, how are you getting along?” Callie asked. She hadn’t had much chance to get to know their newest member yet - or Agent Four, that said. 

“It is okay! Everyone is so friendly,” Eight replied. “Pearl lets me live in a place, it is her family’s, I think? I have a job at the Grizzco now.” 

“Sounds like you’re pretty sorted,” Callie said. “If you need help with anything though, let us know, yeah?” 

“Yes, thank you! Everyone is so kind. Thank you.” 

“So, Badger. How’s your, uh, face?” Marie asked. 

“...Well, it’s less green,” Badger said quietly. The cuts on her nose, cheek and ears were still tinted with a less than healthy colour, but it was far less luminescent than it had been a week ago. “The… eye thing is the same, though,” she added, gesturing past her sunglasses. 

Something poked at Callie’s memory, sitting just under the surface. Hadn’t she felt something like that earlier? 

“How do you feel? Can you still see fine and everything?” Marie asked. 

“Yeah, my vision’s fine, I feel pretty normal now… I dunno. I’m not sure if I should see a doctor or not.” She took off the sunglasses, looking at the reflection on the lens. One normal blue eye, one with a blackened sclera, eyelid stained an almost neon green. 

The dots that had been struggling to connect all day finally clicked into place. 

“THAT’S what it is!” Callie burst out, hands thrown open in surprise. Without a second thought, she grabbed Badger’s wrist, pulling her to the grate. “Come with me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note, splatling kid being a prat isnt meant to be allegory for anything, he's just a brat who's trying to make her feel awful and people have a tendency to be not great about anything theyre not accustomed to. like damn ive had people look at me funny on the street and call me a weirdo just for wearing a particularly unusual hat, people are just Not Great sometimes


	12. New light

Subject One sat at the sofa on Sheldon’s sitting room, scrubbing the rust off splatling components. The rusted layers weren’t too thick, so it wasn’t overly difficult, just tedious going through each and every piece and then washing them with the solution Sheldon had given her to prevent later damages. She hadn’t been at it overly long before she suddenly heard thundering steps on the stairs leading up to the apartment. Setting the bowl of parts aside, she stood uncertainly just in time to see Agent One tear into the room, dragging another inkling with long lavender hair behind her.

“Look! See?” she said excitably, gesturing at Subject One.

Subject One blinked in surprise, looking between the pair of them. It seemed like the other inkling was staring, but it was hard to say given the sunglasses they wore. Agent One looked at them expectantly, but they said nothing.

“Come on, are you going to take off your glasses and show her or what?”

_Show me what? _

The inkling looked at Agent One briefly before turning back to Subject One, slowly raising one hand to remove the sunglasses. Immediately, Subject One’s attention was drawn to the black of their right eye, the bright neon of its eyelid, the way the skin around it seemed to be tinted just slightly green compared to the rest of their face.

_Oh. _

“That’s… like me.”

“Right! That’s probably related, or something, somehow? Probably? What was it that happened to you again, Badge?”

The other inkling shifted slightly, swallowing. “...Um, I don’t really remember the details,” they said, so softly Subject One almost didn’t hear. “Cap said it was an AI shoving mind-control goop on my head…”

** _Oh._ **

A fearful chill settled on Subject One. “Where… did that happen…?” she asked tentatively, quiet, her voice half-catching in her throat.

The stranger looked up at her, seeming uncomfortable. “Not sure. When I woke up, we were on a helicopter, somewhere in the middle of the sea.”

“Was there a… some kind of structure coming out of the sea? All broken at the top?”

They nodded.

“You know where that was, right? So you know about this stuff? D’you know what the deal is, why her eye’s like that?” Agent One asked.

Subject One found herself shivering slightly despite the summer warmth. That awful cold chill gripping her chest grew, spreading out to the rest of her body. She looked away, wishing she could be anywhere else. _I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t like this. I don’t want to be afraid. _

“Uh, are you okay?” Agent One asked, noticing her tremors. Tense, Subject One stared at her, unable to answer. “Why don’t you sit down?” Agent One suggested. Nodding slowly, Subject One followed her advice, pressing herself into a corner of the small sofa. Agent One sat herself on the adjacent armchair. The stranger looked between the two of them, hesitating before awkwardly perching on the far arm of the sofa, giving Subject One plenty of space.

“You don’t have to answer. It’s fine,” Agent One reassured her. “I mean, I just brought Badger ‘cause maybe you could help her with it, it’s not really anything to do with me anyway.”

“It’s not the same,” Subject One whispered.

“Hm?”

“Not the same,” she repeated. “I… was always like this. Nothing _happened_ to me.” Uncomfortable, she drew her legs up, holding them tight against her chest. She felt… awful. She wanted to hide, to find some hole to go and crawl into and not be seen by anyone, ever again.

“Oh.”

“So you don’t know if it might heal…?” Badger asked softly.

“...It won’t.” Subject One shook her head, voice hoarse. “It’s not damaged.”

“Oh,” Badger said, but didn’t press further, didn’t ask how she knew that.

Silence fell over the room, and it seemed even the ever-chirpy Agent One wasn’t sure what to say. Subject One didn’t look up but she felt like they must be staring at her, wondering what she knew, why she was hiding it from them. Would they be able to guess like Sheldon had? What if they already knew? What if they realised what she was, _why _she was, the fact that-

“Hey.” Badger’s quiet voice sounded closer than before, and when Subject One looked up, she realised the inkling had moved to sit on the sofa next to her - still offering plenty of space between them, but nearer than her previous perch. When had she done that?

“It’s okay,” Badger said simply.

“...You don’t know that,” Subject One muttered. _You don’t know what I am._

“I don’t know the details,” Badger admitted. “But… I know sometimes, things are more okay than you think. We worry about stuff too much, sometimes.”

Subject One looked away again. She didn’t feel like she was worrying any more than necessary.

Footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs once more, and the three of them looked at the doorway to see Sheldon come in, giving Agent One a somewhat incredulous look.

“You know my house actually _isn’t_ open to the general public? Just the shop floor?”

“It was important,” Agent One replied, waving her arm as if she could wave away his irritation.

“Yes, and I see you’ve all made yourselves right at home,” he said dryly. “This is supposed to be _my living space._ Where I live _alone_. I’m already going out of my way letting someone stay here, don’t drag more strangers in here.”

“_Fiiiiine._ I guess we were probably done anyway.” Agent One stood, looking at Subject One. “She’s right, y’know. It’s okay. _You’re_ okay. Try not to worry so much, yeah?”

She offered a reassuring smile before turning to walk out. Badger rose as well, fiddling with the sunglasses still in her hand. She looked down at them, then cast her glance to Subject One. She seemed thoughtful for a moment before pocketing the glasses, following Agent One out of the room and back down the stairs to the shop floor. Sheldon watched them go with a tired sigh.

“...Sorry,” Subject One said quietly, drawing her body in tighter. “I could… go somewhere else.”

“Like where?” Sheldon said matter-of-factly. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not blaming you for your circumstances. I don’t imagine you could have made any connections here before coming up from wherever it was. You don’t have control over that - Agent One, on the other hand, _absolutely _has control of her barging in here and bringing along anyone she likes.”

_It still sounded like you wished _no-one_ was here…_ “We made an offer on the place we went to see, so… maybe I can go soon anyway…” 

“Oh? It was a decent place, then? That’s good. Referencing and whatnot can take a while, but who knows how quickly it might get done. I shouldn’t think there will be any problems with the whole process given it’s being handled by Agent Two.” With that said, Sheldon headed further upstairs.

Feeling miserable, Subject One didn’t particularly want to move. Still drawn in on herself, she leaned her head against her knees, wishing she knew how to stop feeling this way. She could hear the noisy boiling of the kettle from above, and soon Sheldon came back down, a mug in each hand. He held one out to her.

“Here. Herbal tea like this is meant to be calming. Don’t know if it really works, but it’s nice, at the very least. Careful though, it’ll be hot.”

She unfolded herself and sat up, taking the mug. The heat from its contents leached out, leaving it warm in her hands. A pleasant minty smell rose from it. “...Thanks.”

“I’m going back down to the shop. Keep working on that splatling, we did promise it would be ready in the morning.”

Subject One nodded as he left, reluctantly turning her attention back to the components. At least there weren’t too many left. Setting the tea aside, she dealt with the last few and brought over the rest of it that hadn’t been affected too badly, opening out the blueprint to begin reassembly.

The ballpoint was more complicated than the heavy splatling model she’d worked on before, having additional mechanisms to change the shot type. Finding exactly which little screw went where and just what _that_ piece was took significant concentration. Knowing she was working for a deadline made her careful to make sure she got it right - having to take it apart and redo it due to getting something wrong might take too long. Usually as she worked through them, she could work out easily enough just what each part did, how it served the whole, but there were some parts here she couldn’t quite cipher. It didn’t stop her from following the blueprints and being able to put it back together, but it piqued her curiosity, and she found herself mildly distracted trying to work out the purpose of the pieces.

After a while, she paused, reaching for the tea and sitting back. It had cooled enough to drink, and the minty smell was stronger now. _I wonder if it really helps you feel better._ Contemplating as she drank from it, she realised that actually, she already did feel better than she had. Having to focus her mind on the task had pulled her out of her previous sorrowful state.

Despite how noticeable the smell of the drink was, its flavour was quite mild, the aftertaste being stronger than the tea itself. The mint left a slight cold feeling behind, in contrast to its actual temperature. The warm mug felt soothing in her hands, and she found herself liking the drink, one she’d never tried before. Mild, warm, and pleasant. _Three good things to be._

Reassured by the realisation that she was alright again, she got back to work, following closely the design on the blueprint. It took over an hour of concentration, but she managed to get it back together, relatively confident it should function properly. She picked it up along with the blueprints and took it downstairs to Sheldon.

The shop floor was a little busy, with Sheldon talking to one octoling who looked like they were struggling to keep up with his enthusiastic speech and a few inklings browsing the things on display. Propping the splatling up against the wall, she hung back by the door, watching as she waited for Sheldon to become free. One of the inklings looked over at her, gaze flicking to the splatling briefly before turning back to the shelves. The others cast cursory glances her way, one of them staring for a little while before their friend distracted them, but otherwise ignored her. Whenever she looked at Sheldon he was still engaged in conversation - he could really talk about this stuff, it seemed.

The first inkling who spotted her seemed to keep looking at her. When they weren’t, they were staring up at the chargers hung on the wall in front of them, but their attention was brought back to her every so often. _Am I really that out of place..? _She began to feel self-conscious. Watching them, they met eyes again, and the inkling walked over to her. She felt nervousness rise in her as they approached, apprehensive.

“Um… Do you work here?”

She blinked, a little surprised. _I guess I do._ “...Yeah.”

“I, um… I’m looking to try out chargers but haven’t really used any before. I could use some recommendations.”

_Oh._ “Okay. Um…” Subject One wandered over to the wall they’d been staring at before, looking up at the models shown there. She recognised a splat charger identical to the first one she’d taken apart here, and a couple that she remembered trying out when she’d stopped off at platforms on the Deepsea Metro - a bamboozler and an e-litre. She remembered how they’d functioned well enough.

“The bamboozler charges quickly, but it’s not very strong. It’s light and easy to use, though. The e-litre is kinda heavy and unwieldy, but it’s powerful, and the range is really long. It’s really loud… and it takes ages to charge compared to the others. The splat charger, that one, is somewhere in the middle. Decent range and power without taking too long to charge.”

“I guess… the middley one is a good starting place?” they said tentatively, looking up at the splat charger. “What’s the sub and special on that?”

Subject One paused, thinking back to when Sheldon had tested the one she reassembled. “Splat bombs and sting ray.”

“Oooh. I know splat bombs. Never tried out sting ray much, but been splatted by ‘em plenty. Okay, I’ll get one of those.”

The inkling looked up at her expectantly, and she paused awkwardly. _I don’t know what I’m doing…_ Hoping for help, she looked over at Sheldon. He seemed to have noticed her talking to a customer and was watching, and excused himself from the octoling and came over.

“Hello, hello! She’s new, she hasn’t learned the ropes yet,” he explained to the inkling.

“Oh, okay,” the inkling said. “I wanted to buy a splat charger.”

“Wonderful! Right this way,” Sheldon said, leading them over to the counter.

Grateful to not have to handle that, Subject One wandered over to lean on the wall. The octoling was nearby, muttering in octarian.

“**Uugh, I still don’t understand _anything_**,” they said dejectedly.

“**He does talk kinda fast sometimes**,” Subject One offered quietly. “**What did you not get?**”

The octoling rapidly turned to her, surprised. “**You speak octo?**”

She nodded. The speaker had taught her in both languages, alternating between the two.

“**Cod, that’ll make this way easier. I’m pretty new around here and wanted to try this turf war everyone raves about, people said this is the place to grab a good weapon.**”

“**If you’re just looking to try it, they have free splattershot juniors for new people in the lobby. They’re pretty easy to use.**”

“**Yeah, I heard that, but I was looking to get a blaster. They’re what I’m used to. That’s what I asked about, but I didn’t catch, like… Any of what he said.**”

“**Oh, okay.**” Subject One paused. She wasn’t overly familiar with blasters outside of the one she’d had to put back together three times. She hadn’t tried any on the Deepsea Metro, or gotten to taking apart any other models. “**We definitely have those. There’s one with the toxic mist sub and splashdown as the special.**”

“**Oof, I’m terrible with toxic mist. Any other sets**?”

“**Um… I don’t know. We’d have to ask Sheldon.**”

“**That’s fine. Cod, I’m really glad there’s someone here who can translate, I’d be so lost otherwise.**”

They watched as Sheldon finished the transaction with the inkling, who offered Subject One thanks for her help as they left. He headed back over to them. “Right, where were we? Blasters?”

“Yes. I want one that is not with the… Uh…” The octoling paused, narrowing their eyes in frustration. “**What is it in inkling again? Toxic mist?**”

“Toxic mist,” Subject One supplied.

“Yes! Not with the toxic mist.”

“Not a fan of the sub, eh? Not to worry, we also stock the custom blaster set, that comes with autobombs to track down your foes for you - you’ll know right where to aim when they’re trying to avoid that! And for the special it comes with the inkjet, so you can rain the pain from above! If you’re confident in your ability to scope out foes, this set will suit you to a T.”

He really did switch into overdrive when talking about this, Subject One noted. It even seemed like he had tried to slow down from his usual pace a little, but clearly not enough, as when she looked aside to the octoling they were glancing at her helplessly.

“**I _think_ I heard inkjet in there somewhere?**”

“**Inkjet and autobombs, yeah.**”

**“Oooh. Thanks.**” They turned back to Sheldon, nodding. “Yes, that is good. I would like that one to buy.”

“Certainly! Right this way.”

Sheldon led the octoling to the counter to process the purchase, and they soon left with new weapon in hand, giving Subject One a grateful smile on the way. When she looked around the shop, the other inklings that had been there had disappeared. She supposed they must have wandered off without buying anything.

“You speak octarian?” Sheldon asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Convenient! Octolings _have _been a growing part of my customer crowd lately, and some of them haven’t quite gotten used to inkling language yet. Maybe hiring you will be a better investment than I thought.”

“I finished on the splatling,” she said, gesturing to where she’d leaned it against the wall.

“So you did! Let’s test it out. Best make sure it is as good as we said it would be, I’d rather not give that boy any excuse for more nastiness.”

“Mmm.” She didn’t look forward to having to see him again. Maybe she could just stay upstairs tomorrow. She followed as Sheldon picked up the splatling and headed to the testing range. While he checked its performance, she scanned over the blueprint again, looking for the pieces she couldn’t work out the purpose of.

“Good work, it handles flawlessly,” Sheldon said. “I think it actually feels smoother than when they’re newly delivered.”

“Mm,” Subject One mumbled, distracted. “There it is. That part, what does that do?”

“That’s the mechanism that allows an interrupted charge. Most splatlings, once they begin firing, will not stop until they run out of charge - or the user can drop in the ink and it’ll reset to being uncharged. The ballpoint, though, along with the nautilus, have some extra components that mean if you’ve started firing and pull on the charge trigger, it’ll stop and begin recharging again, there’s no need to wait or lose what you’ve already got.”

“Ohhhh.” _I see. That makes sense._

“You did very well on this. There’s no reason anyone wouldn’t be happy with how it works now.”

His appraisal made her feel lighter somehow, and she felt a little proud of her work. “Um… thanks.”

“Praise where it’s due, no? Anyway, it’s good to see you smiling again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i originally wanted to try doin some fancy different font things for octoling language but alas... even google cannot save me from my technological illiteracy and i couldnt get it to work :c so here we are w things just in bold instead  
on another note we're halfway through the fic now....... (muffled livin on a prayer in the background)


	13. First impressions

Sheldon decided to use the rest of the day to show Subject One the various different weapon sets they had, where stock was kept, and how to use the till. She wasn’t particularly fond of the thought of actually talking to customers on a regular basis, but he reassured her she wouldn’t have to do it much, it was just in case any situations arose where he couldn’t do it himself. He’d asked that in future she stay downstairs at the workbench instead of going upstairs, too, in case they needed her help translating again. At least the corner the workbench was in was fairly inconspicuous. The afternoon passed quietly, as did the evening.

The next day, Sheldon put up a poster in the window, advertising for repairs. He seemed pleased with Subject One’s progress with learning the intricacies of the various weapons, and that morning assigned her a splattershot pro to work on. She sat in her corner, feeling somewhat apprehensive as she took it apart. When would splatling-boy show up? She hoped he would just talk to Sheldon when he did, and leave her alone.

Anxious about it as she was, every time someone entered the shop, her head whipped up to see who it was. They had told him it’d be ready this morning, and it was nearing eleven o’clock now. Where was he?

The gentle chime of the bell above the door went off again and she looked over once more to see someone who _was _familiar - but it wasn’t splatling-boy. Instead, it was Badger, lavender tentacles swaying as she looked around the shop until she spotted Subject One. She wasn’t wearing sunglasses today.

“Hello, hello - Oh, it’s you,” Sheldon said. “What was yesterday about?”

Badger turned to him, looking around briefly before simply gesturing at her eye. Once he could see her face clearly, it looked like Sheldon’s eyes widened slightly.

“I see. I, ah, didn’t see that yesterday. Err, I would say in future please don’t let yourself upstairs, but it didn’t look like you had much choice in the matter yesterday, so I’ll let it slide.”

Badger snickered slightly, nodding. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Right… So, were you here to browse, or…?”

She shook her head. “Mar wanted me to talk to her.”

“Who’s Mar?” Subject One asked.

Badger froze, letting out an awkward squeak.

“How do you know those two, anyway?” Sheldon asked.

“You know them as well?” she asked.

“One of them _barged into my house_. I know she can be a little… act-first-think-later but she still wouldn’t do that to a stranger, I’m pretty sure.”

“Are you talking about Agent One?” Subject One asked.

“Wait, you know about the agent stuff?” Badger blinked in surprise.

“_You _know about the agent stuff?” Sheldon was the one surprised now. Actually, it seemed like everyone was. Subject One had no idea what was going on. A moment of silence fell as everyone tried to work out just what the others involved knew.

“Um. If you know that stuff anyway, uh, I’m Agent Three,” Badger said.

“_Ohhhh._That clarifies things,” Sheldon said.

“...I still don’t know who Mar is,” Subject One pointed out.

“Agent Two,” Sheldon explained. Badger shot him a surprised look. “It’s fine, it won’t mean anything to her.”

“You reckon?”

“I am absolutely certain.”

Badger shrugged. Sheldon looked up at her with a scrutinous gaze.

“Now that I think about it, aren’t you the one who brought in some of Grandpappy’s blueprints before?”

“Oh, you remember that?”

“Of course! Hmm. It would seem I’m getting a lot of help from you all when it comes to new products for the shop. Even Agent Two has offered to, uh, ‘invest’.” Sheldon trailed off, casting his glance at the new poster in his window. “Well, if you’re not here for the shop, I’ll leave you to it.”

With that said, he wandered back to the counter, pottering away at the shelves beneath it. Badger moved to lean on the wall near where Subject One sat.

“I guess you’re not big on celebs, huh.”

“Um… I don’t really know much about here, or anyone, so…” Subject One trailed off, not sure what else she could say on that subject. “What did Agent Two want you to talk to me for?”

“She told me you don’t have a name?”

Subject One shook her head.

“I guess she figured I might be able to help since I picked my own name,” Badger mused.

Subject One looked up at her, curious. “How did you do that?”

“Well, I never really liked the name I had before,” she started. “I dunno, it just… didn’t feel like me.” She paused, looking aside. Subject One waited for her to continue. “I sorta looked up some names, ‘cause you can look up name meanings and stuff, but… Dunno. I just started using Badger as a nickname and it kind of clicked. Felt right, y’know?”

_Not really._ Subject One thought over her words. Maybe she could try looking up name meanings.

“How come you don’t have one?”

Subject One looked down at the table. Thinking about it, she supposed she knew the answer to that, the _implications _of the answer to that, but it wasn’t a particularly comfortable thought. “...I was created by an AI. It just called me ‘Subject One’.”

“...Would that be the same AI that did this to my face?”

“...Most likely.” Subject One’s voice came out quietly, and she couldn’t seem to find it to speak any louder. This was making her feel bad again. Feel _wrong_.

“Any idea why it made you?”

“It called me a superior being.” _I feel like anything but._

“Makes sense. Cap said it was on about something nuts like inklings and octarians being unworthy. How come you’re here now, then? I mean, like, where were you before and how’d’you get to here?”

“I… was in the test centre before. It was deep under the ocean, under the Deepsea Metro. Then the speaker - the AI, I guess - just… stopped, and everywhere opened up. I… didn’t like it on the Deepsea Metro, and the only other place to go was up through the wrecked tower thing, so… I did that, and Sheldon found me.”

Subject One swallowed as she stopped talking. She felt like she might be about to start shivering again.

“When you say it stopped, was that… about a week and a half ago?”

Subject One nodded.

“That’s about when it got to me and had the showdown with Eight,” Badger mused. “Maybe she’d have more insight on this. I was kinda unconscious for a lot of what happened, and wandering around on my own not sure what was going on when I wasn’t.”

Subject One was silent, staring down at the work desk. She tried to focus on taking apart the splattershot pro, but couldn’t keep her concentration and ended up just fiddling with a screw, worrying it between her fingers.

“You doin’ okay?”

Feeling cold, Subject One shook her head.

“Want a hug? I know you only met me yesterday, so feel free to say no.”

Badger’s soft voice sounded nearer, and when Subject One looked over, she had bent down, sat on her haunches.

“I… don’t know.” She wasn’t really sure what a hug was in the first place. She _did _know she wanted to feel better if she could, though, and anything that might help was welcome. “Sure.”

“‘Kay.”

Subject One watched as Badger leaned forward, putting her weight on her knees and gently wrapping her arms around her. _Oh. Is this a hug?_ Subject One could feel her warmth. _Should I…_ A little awkwardly, Subject One hesitantly returned the embrace. The physical contact felt… nice. It felt like knowing - or maybe like properly _understanding _\- that she wasn’t alone. The warm touch spread through her, combatting the uncertain chill and loosening its grip on her. _Hugs are nice_, Subject One decided. Even if Badger had a weird, less-than-pleasant smell around her - like old socks mixed with something chemical.

Subject One didn’t let go until she felt Badger draw back. The inkling gave her a soft smile. “Little better?”

Subject One nodded. “Thanks...”

“Naw, thank _you,_ for answering all that. I know what anxiety’s like. I’m terrible around people I don’t know well.”

“Do you know me well?” _We only met yesterday, like you said. _

“Well… I guess not. I get the feeling we have a lot in common though. And not just ‘cause of… _this,_” she said, waving at her eye.

Subject One looked at her thoughtfully. Were they that similar? She wasn’t sure. Badger was nice, though, in any case. Subject One found herself already missing the feeling of the hug. _Even if she smells weird._ “Why do you smell weird?”

Taken aback, Badger’s eyes widened, and a blush etched itself onto her face. She scowled. “It’s Dad’s fault,” she muttered, suddenly grumpy. “He’s obsessed with not getting holes in anything, so our whole house has mothballs everywhere. Every wardrobe, every chest of drawers, everything. They stink up all my clothes.”

“Oh.”

“‘S why I like splatfests. Even if it’s loud and crowded, at least I can have a shirt that doesn’t stink for it.”

“Splatfests?”

“Gosh, you really don’t know about stuff around here, huh? Splatfests are basically a huge party. There’s always a theme, some question or other, basically what do you think is better, option A or option B. Everyone picks teams then battles it out to prove the superior side in turf war. But they put up tons of decorations around the plaza, there’s a concert on top of the lobby, and everyone’s out havin’ a good time whether they’re joining in the matches or not. They’re good fun, you should join in the next one.”

“...Um… I got banned from turf war… And I didn’t really like it anyway.”

“For eel?” Badger’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Huh. Well, I guess it’s never gonna be everyone’s cup of tea. You could probs still pick a team and hang out in the square.”

“Mmm…”

The bell by the door went off again, and Subject One looked up. This time it was who they’d been expecting, and the familiar blue-haired inkling boy strode in. He headed straight over to the counter, and Subject One was grateful he didn’t look over to her corner.

“Hey. I’m here for my splatling,” he said to Sheldon.

“Ah, yes! It’s right here, and working flawlessly. Would you like to take it around the testing range?”

“Yeah. Let’s see if you really made it better.”

Subject One watched as they went out the back, glad he hadn’t made any interaction with her.

“You know that kid?” Badger asked.

“...I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me, either.”

“Why’s that?”

Subject One let out a discomforted noise. “Because… of reasons.”

“‘Kay.”

Badger seemed content to let her not answer, and Subject One appreciated that. A moment later, Sheldon and the boy returned. He seemed satisfied enough with its performance, not making any further fuss as he headed out of the shop. He spotted her in the corner as he went, and his expression immediately soured, shooting a filthy glare at her but thankfully not saying anything.

“Yeah… yeah no, I don’t reckon he likes you either,” Badger agreed quietly as he left.

Once he was gone, Sheldon came over to the two of them. “Well, that’s that dealt with. Even _he _couldn’t say anything bad of your handiwork. How’s the splattershot pro going?”

Subject One looked back down to the shooter, largely untouched past the outer casing having been removed. She’d been distracted talking to Badger and not concentrating on it. “It’s… probably fine if I don’t forget to do it?”

“You _are _supposed to be working, here,” Sheldon chided, though he didn’t seem like he was really bothered. “Well, you did plenty of working on things even when the shop was closed, so I suppose I can’t complain.” With that, he wandered away again.

“Guess I should let you get on with that,” Badger said. “I might see if Eight can come by. She knows more about that AI than I do. D’you reckon you’d be alright talking to her about it?”

_A stranger? _Subject One paused, unsure. _Do I really need to talk to anyone about it…?_

“If it helps, I’ll be here too.”

Subject One was quiet for a moment, considering. Badger was nice, and if there was someone nice here with her, maybe it would be alright... “...Okay.” 

“Neat.” Badger suddenly jumped straight up, bouncing her arms out as she did so. “I’ll see ya ‘round, then.” She gave an exaggerated salute as she headed out of the shop. Subject One watched her go, waving slightly.

Once Badger was out of sight, Subject One turned her attention back to the splattershot pro. Looking over the blueprint Sheldon had supplied, it was much less complicated than some of the other weapons she’d already worked on, so it should be fine. Finding the next screw to remove, she got to work.

* * *

The rest of that day and the next were uneventful. Subject One spent her time going through whatever weapons Sheldon passed her to take apart, and familiarising herself with the various sets they stocked. Even once she had a better understanding of their wares, she still wasn’t sure she’d be confident talking to customers much, but she hadn’t had to yet. There had been one person who brought in a repair job after seeing the poster Sheldon had put up - a roller that wasn’t inking properly, with the far left end of the cylinder not being fuelled properly by a dodgy ink tube. It had ended up being one that was just worn with age, so only needed the tube replacing. Sheldon had heard from Agent Two, as well, regarding that flat. It sounded like the referencing process was moving along rapidly and she’d be able to move in only a few days. She was looking forward to having a decently sized bed again - and had the feeling Sheldon was looking forward to having his own space again, too. The residual ache in her muscles from her grand escape out of the Deepsea Metro had faded by now and the blister on her hand had healed up, and she was eager to get back to her exercise routine, but there wasn’t enough space in Sheldon’s little flat. Doing her own cooking again would be nice, too. Sheldon’s was perfectly decent, but she knew her own tastes, and how to suit them flawlessly. Plus she could make more cake without worrying about judgement. The one she’d made before had long since been demolished. All in all, the sooner the better.

She’d remembered Badger’s words on names and had tried looking up lists of names along with their meanings on Sheldon’s computer, but she didn’t really know what she was looking for. None of them felt like they clicked, like Badger had described. They were just nouns and definitions on a page, none of them hers. That said, on all the lists she’d looked at, Badger as a name hadn’t come up anywhere. There were others she vaguely recognised, but not that one. Maybe she’d have to come up with an unconventional one, too.

Sat in her usual corner at the work desk, she wondered what things could be a name and what couldn’t as she reassembled a luna blaster. Were there any set rules on that? She was curious about where Badger had gotten that name from in the first place. The now familiar chiming of the bell at the door caught her attention, and she glanced up to see the inkling in question, followed by a purple-haired octoling in a blue leather jacket. Badger spotted her quickly, and she waved.

“Yo! This is Eight,” Badger called over, gesturing at the octoling. Eight looked at where Badger’s gaze was pointed, following it. Her eyes met Subject One’s, and she froze in her tracks while Badger approached.

“**S-sanitised!?**” she squeaked out.

Subject One immediately tensed.

“Hm?” Badger looked back just in time to watch the octoling bolt, dashing out the door and across the square somewhere. “W-what?”

Subject One felt that all-too-familiar icy dread fill her. _She knows._

“Uh, I’ll be back in a minute,” Badger said, rushing out after Eight.

No-one was supposed to know, up here. No-one had even mentioned that word since she left the Deepsea Metro. She wanted to have left all that behind, she didn’t want it following her, even here.

She could feel panic rising in her. Her mouth felt dry, and she felt too hot - yet too cold, overheating with adrenaline and frozen with fear all at the same time.

_Why? Why does anyone here know?_

Some small voice in the back of her mind told her that it made perfect sense, that Badger had said Eight knew more about the AI, so of course she would be more likely to know about everything else related to the damned thing. Subject One didn’t want to acknowledge that, though. She didn’t want to face everything it reminded her of, didn’t want to even _know in the first place _that _one damned fact_ that had prompted this whole terrifying mess.

She felt herself shaking. With the utterance of a single word, everything immediately felt _wrong._ She stared down at the blueprints in front of her, unable to see any of the words or design details. Her throat felt tight. She tried to keep her breathing even, but even the act of drawing in air was painful. She was afraid. So deathly afraid.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sat there struggling against the fear - it could have been a minute, it could have been a year, it would have felt like the same eternity to her - when her attention was dragged up by a sharp knocking against the desk. When she looked up, there was a suited limpet standing in front of her, just barely shorter than Sheldon yet still with a foreboding appearance, their face gruff and worn.

“I’m gonna need ya to come with me.”

Subject One stared at them, unable to speak, unable to move. All she could do was sit and tremble.

“Hey. Come on. Up ‘n at it,” they said impatiently.

“Excuse me, but what is going on here?” Sheldon said, having come over from behind the counter.

“None o’ yer business. I’m jus’ doin’ my job.”

“Which is what, exactly?” Sheldon asked sceptically.

“Security.” The limpet stared him down as if daring him to ask further.

Just then, Badger burst back in, panting. Had she been running? How long ago had she disappeared? The inkling took one look at Subject One and rushed over.

“Hey,” she said breathlessly. “Hey… s-slow down…” She seemed quieter than usual, but it may have just been the overexertion.

Sheldon glanced at her briefly before turning back to the limpet, not backing down. “It is absolutely my business if someone comes in here demanding my staff to leave.”

“Not my problem,” the limpet said gruffly. “Hurry it up, missy, or I’ll drag ya out of here.”

“No… you won’t,” Badger interjected, barely audible. Her face was brightly coloured, but it didn’t seem to be from the running.

“Ya wanna try an’ stop me, smallfry?”

“...Just, j-just stop a minute.” Badger walked around the work desk, crouching down next to Subject One. “Hey. I’m here. ‘Kay?”

Subject One stared blankly at her, only vaguely seeing her. Everything felt distant and she couldn’t focus. She felt like she could hear Sheldon arguing with the limpet but she couldn’t tell. She just about recognised that Badger opened her arms out at some point, some gesture of invitation. With what little control she had left, she leaned that way, feeling the warm pressure of physical contact. It gave her some small morsel of strength, which she used to wrap her arms around Badger, clinging to her as tightly as she could. She was trembling and hyperventilating and she couldn’t concentrate enough to tell anything going on around her, but she could feel Badger holding her, vaguely heard her saying something or other in that soft voice of hers, so close to her ears. She couldn’t make out the words but tried to keep her attention on what she _could_ sense and clung to the familiar quiet tone.

She wasn’t sure if time still existed, or at the very least if it was working properly. Everything felt too long and too short at the same time. She just wanted everything to _stop_, stop while she tried to calm down, make sense of reality again.

Unfortunately, the world was not so kind. Her attention was dragged out of her tired mental bubble by the limpet sharply knocking on the desk again.

“Last warnin’. Get up an’ move or I’ll be draggin’ ya.”

Fearful, Subject One looked at Badger, who looked… stressed.

“I don’t think there’s much choice,” she said quietly.

Subject One looked back at the limpet, who was tapping their foot impatiently. _I don’t want to_… “I don’t want to let go…” Her voice came out in a quiet croak.

“Then…” Badger paused briefly, thinking. “Be a squid - or equivalent, I guess - ‘n I’ll carry you?”

Subject One nodded shakily, shifting form. She didn’t want to go at all, really, but if she was being taken anywhere, she’d rather it be by Badger than this aggressive stranger. She heard Badger grunt in exertion as she was picked up, and then she was surrounded by that strange mothball smell. She closed her eyes, wanting to shut out the world for any brief time she could. Ignoring anything from around her, she focused on her one source of comfort, feeling the rhythm of Badger’s footsteps and listening to her thumping heartbeats. They were erratic and fast, like her own. Was Badger afraid too?

It was too soon when they stopped, and she had to acknowledge anything else again.

“Hey… We’re, uh, here,” Badger whispered. “I can’t, um, keep holding you, you’re kinda heavy. I’ll still be here though?”

Subject One reluctantly opened her eyes again as she was returned to the floor, shifting again to stand. Glancing around, they were in a different building now. The scary limpet was standing by the door, and seeing them prompted Subject One to step back, standing behind Badger slightly. There were three more people in the room - Eight, she vaguely recognised, staring at her from behind a taller dark skinned octoling with long teal-tipped hair and headphones around her neck, and next to her was a short inkling in a white dress. The unfamiliar octoling was watching her with an analytical gaze, but the inkling spoke up immediately.

“Woah! The hell is one of _you _doin’ up here?”


	14. Anguish

Silence spread over the room as everyone awaited a response, but Subject One couldn’t speak. She was still trembling and felt tense all over, and her throat was tight. Trying to hide from all the stares pointed her way, she shuffled behind Badger a little more. The height difference between them made it ineffective, but she tried nonetheless.

“She’s even bigger than _you_, Rina, what the hell?” the inkling muttered.

“This, um, is maybe, not the best time for this,” Badger stuttered. “She’s, uh, kind of, not doing okay…”

“She’s not, is she?” The unfamiliar octoling was still watching Subject One with that scrutinous gaze. “Pearlie, did you see her chest?”

“_Wow,_ this is _so _not the moment for being a perv?”

“No, you-” The octoling sighed. “She has a pulse. You could _see _how hard it was going.”

“So?”

“So she’s not like the ones Eight saw before, because they didn’t. Also, look at where the suckers are on her tentacles.”

The inkling stared up at Subject One, spotting how the suckers went from the outside to the inside going down her hair.

“Huh. So wait, are you squid or octo?”

Subject One shook her head nervously.

“That, uh, wasn’t a yes-or-no question,” the inkling said.

“Wait, you all have seen people like her before?” Badger asked.

“Sort of,” The octoling replied.

“Did you not?” Eight asked. “When we were the Deepsea Metro on?”

“No… I was kind of outside the main building, sort of, I think…? I don’t really know, I was on my own the whole time.”

“**So is she… not one of them?**” Eight asked quietly.

“**She’s not the same, but I think Tartar will still have been involved**,” the octoling replied. “Who are you?”

Subject One searched, but couldn’t find her voice. Not that she had an answer for that question yet anyway. Eventually she gave up on trying to form words and settled for just shaking her head again.

“Can we, like… Have a minute to try ‘n calm down?” Badger sounded a little on edge, and when she turned to face Subject One her face held more colour than usual. "Uh, if you don't know already, they're Pearl and Marina. They're… probably cool? I mean, Eight trusts them, so…"

That wasn't an overly reassuring thought, given Eight's immediate reaction to Subject One.

"_Probably_ cool? That's the understatement of the century," Pearl said indignantly.

"We just want to know a little about you," Marina said. "That's all. You can sit down, if you want."

She gestured to a small sofa against one wall, and Subject One vaguely followed as Badger gently took her by the arm and went to sit. Badger flopped down with a heavy sigh, but Subject One was too tense to relax, sitting rigidly on the edge. She stared down at the floor until she felt a slight prod in her side.

"It's okay," Badger said as she looked around, the inkling opening her arms welcomingly. "Hug?"

Subject One accepted her offer, leaning heavily on her as she clung to her.

"So… does she speak, or…?" Pearl said as she followed near the sofa, Marina in tow.

Badger nodded, or tried to but shortly realised it would be difficult and largely unnoticed, enveloped as she was by Subject One. "Yeah, when she's not terrified."

"What do you know about her?" Marina asked.

"Uhh, let's see. She doesn't have a name, she was made by the AI thing, she's meant to be some kind of superior being. She was somewhere further down than the Deepsea Metro but made her way out around the time when you all dealt with that statue."

"I see," Marina said, thoughtful. "Are there others like her?"

"Dunno. She didn't mention any."

"That's wild. Like, I know the thing was talking about making its own better race or whatever, but I didn't think it had, like, _started_ yet," Pearl said.

"No, this makes sense," Marina interjected. "If it hadn't worked out how it was going to make its new species it wouldn't want to… destroy its resource pool."

A fresh wave of panic ran through Subject One. What did that mean? _How much do they know? _

“What do you mean, resource pool? What was it using? Wasn’t it just trying to blow up Inkopolis or whatever?” Badger asked.

_Don’t tell her. Please. Don’t say it._

“Weren’t you the one who stopped it happening to Eight ‘n the old man? How do you not know?” Pearl asked in slight disbelief.

“Listen, I just saw a distress signal and the Cap stuck in something so I busted it and then was out cold. I didn’t exactly get context.”

“It was to... kill us,” Eight said quietly.

“Yah. It was blending people up for material for its _master race_,” Pearl explained, tone turning sardonic.

Terror tore through Subject One as tears welled up in her eyes. She felt ice all throughout her body and she couldn’t breathe. _I didn’t want this. I didn’t ask for this. I never wanted anyone to be hurt. I never asked to be made. _She couldn’t form words to try and defend herself, couldn’t move.

“...Oh,” Badger said. “So she’s…”

“Made of dead people,” Pearl finished.

Subject One’s voice suddenly returned, but not in any coherent matter. She let out a sharp cry of raw anguish as that dreaded truth was finally aired out. Violent sobs shook her body as she clung to Badger, tightening her grip, wordlessly begging her to stay as tears streamed down her face. Any other words being said were drowned out by her desolate wails.

_Please don’t leave me. Please don’t hate me. I don’t want to be alone again. _

Someone was saying something to her, but she couldn’t tell what, or who. All she could do was cry as she desperately held on to Badger, unable to let go of the one person who’d managed to help her feel safe. She felt Badger shift slightly and panicked. _Please don’t go. Don’t. Please…_

Badger made no attempt to move, didn’t try and wriggle her way out of Subject One’s hold. Instead, she hugged her a little tighter, rubbing circles on her back. Surprised, Subject One’s sobs caught briefly on a hiccup, but she couldn’t stop them from continuing, not yet. She felt one of Badger’s hands move to the back of her head, soothingly stroking her hair. They sat there for a while, Badger holding her and letting her cry. She was murmuring something or other but Subject One couldn’t concentrate enough to tell what, not until she had let out the worst of her fears.

Eventually, Badger’s gentle presence helped her to calm down enough to process what she was hearing.

“It’s okay,” Badger said softly.

_How can you say that? _Subject One couldn’t comprehend how Badger could come to that conclusion. Did she not understand? _Or… _Subject One was too afraid to dare to hope that maybe she did understand and still fully believed that. The unmistakable fact remained that Badger was still here, though. Here, trying to help her, to calm her down. She sniffed, trying to stifle the sobbing, albeit somewhat unsuccessfully.

“Also, this, um, is a bit tight. I _do_ need to breathe,” Badger added with a nervous laugh.

Subject One quickly loosened her grip. “S-sorry!” she stuttered out.

“Thanks,” Badger said with a sigh of relief, pulling in a deep breath. “It’s fine, ‘s not like I have any bones to break.” 

“Oh hey, she _does_ speak,” Pearl said, making Subject One jump. She’d forgotten there were other people here.

“I did say she does,” Badger reminded her.

Subject One sniffled again. She’d managed to stop crying, just about - although she was still hiccuping every few seconds. She didn’t let go of Badger, but made sure not to hold her quite so tightly as before. “Sorry…” she repeated quietly.

“You doin’ a bit better now?”

“Mm.” Subject One nodded, looking at Badger in confusion. “You don’t… hate me now?”

“What? Why would I?” Badger sounded equally confused.

“Because… I’m…” Subject One looked away, unable to speak the words. Badger seemed to understand what she was getting at, though.

“Yeah, but that’s not your fault. You’re not the one who did that.”

Subject One looked back at her, seeing her earnest expression. She really _did _understand - and she didn’t blame her for it. A wave of relief flooded through Subject One, and fresh tears rose, but with a different accompanying feeling this time. She didn’t know what to say.

“It’s not like you had any control of that,” Marina said. “Don’t go trying to take responsibility for what the AI did.”

Subject One looked up at her, then to Pearl next to her, who was nodding in agreement.

“The circumstances of one’s birth are irrelevant,” she said, putting on a deep voice. “It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are.”

“Pearlie, she probably won’t even have seen that,” Marina said with an amused smile.

“What? It’s Pokémon. _Everyone’s _seen that.”

“I somehow don’t think the computer programme that looked down on us for having fun will have bothered with pop culture.”

Pearl narrowed her eyes. “I _guess_,” she conceded.

Subject One stared at them in a state of disbelief. Ever since finding out the specific details of her creation she had been terrified of anyone knowing, even hating knowing it herself. Yet these people knew, and just brushed it off like it was nothing. She had been so afraid of people thinking what _she _had thought - that she was something that should never have existed, that it was her fault those people were dead because if no-one had ever wanted her to exist in the first place they wouldn’t have been killed. But here in this room, these people, they didn’t think it was anything to do with her at all. Had she really done nothing wrong?

_Is it really okay for me to be here? _

Was that something she could really believe? She wasn’t sure. Badger, Pearl and Marina seemed to believe it though, and the relief she felt in knowing that was almost overwhelming.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Badger ruffled her hair slightly in response, then let her arm drop to her side. “You alright now? ‘Cause, I like hugs as much as the next person, but it _is _really warm…”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m… okay.” A little reluctantly, Subject One finally let go, shifting over on the sofa to allow some space between them.

“Thanks.” Badger quickly shrugged off her jacket, glad to be relieved of the extra layer.

“Um, I…” Eight was still stood slightly behind Marina, looking sheepish. “Sorry… I was wrong.”

Subject One looked up at her, not really sure how she felt about her and so unsure equally of what to say. Eight fidgeted in the awkward silence, looking away.

“I, uh. I thought you might- you might dangerous be…”

“The verb doesn’t go at the end…”

Eight blinked in confusion. “The… what?”

“**The verb** ‘be’ **goes before** ‘dangerous’** in that sentence**,” Subject One explained.

“**Oh**,” Eight said, her cheeks colouring in embarrassment. “**Wait, you speak Octarian?**”

Subject One nodded.

“I hope you aren’t trying to mock her,” Marina said, a sharp edge to her tone making Subject One immediately uncomfortable. She shook her head rapidly.

“I didn’t know what to say…”

“She said she was sorry, so ya could at least say something to that,” Pearl said.

Subject One paused, feeling caught out. She didn’t particularly want to say it was okay or anything along those lines - after all, the aftermath of Eight’s assumptions had been far less than pleasant. What else did people say to an apology?

“Um…” She narrowed her eyes in frustration, not sure what she should do. “I don’t know what to say…”

“Are you angry?” Eight asked timidly.

“No, not really…”

Eight sighed in relief. “I’m glad.”

“Anyway, now that’s all done,” Pearl started, pacing the room with exaggerated steps. “We had questions. Right, Rina?”

“Yes. Are there any others like you?” Marina asked, having pulled out a laptop from somewhere.

Subject One shook her head. “I was on my own. I never met or heard of any other… ‘subjects’.”

“Interesting…” Marina tapped away at the keyboard. “And how did you get out of the Deepsea Metro?”

“There was a hole in the ceiling at Central Station.”

“So you went through that?”

“Yes.”

“So you went through all that wild trip Eight had to do? Damn, I’m impressed,” Pearl said.

“That doesn’t add up,” Marina muttered, a forlorn look of concentration on her face. “Remember that the lift had to be powered by a source, and the only way to get it there was _with_ the power source? Eight had already taken it there. How did you get across without it?”

“The room just before the lift?” Subject One thought back. “I… didn’t think I could get across either. But then the platform moved on its own.”

“That shouldn’t have happened…” Marina stared at her screen, dissatisfied.

“Maybe without the source it just went back anyway?” Pearl suggested.

“If that was the case, then unless she was right behind Eight it would have already been back at the start when she arrived. And she couldn’t have been right behind Eight, because if she was, then she probably wouldn’t be here now, given what happened to the statue. Also, even if it had gone back on its own, there wouldn’t be a power source to get it moving again. Unless you found another one to use?”

Subject One shook her head. “It just moved on its own. It was on the other side of the room when I arrived, then after a while it moved to where I was and back.”

“Was there anyone you had help from who might have been able to direct power to it?”

“I messaged C. Q. Cumber, but he didn’t sound like he had anything to do with it…” Subject One pulled out her C.Q. 80, opening up the message log between them to show to Marina to read. Pearl tiptoed up to read too.

“Doesn’t sound like it, nah,” the short inkling said.

“Then how did it move?” Marina muttered. “I don’t like this…”

“Sounds like you have an idea you ain’t fond of,” Pearl said warily.

“Well… It’s only a theory. But… Commander Tartar was an AI, a computer programme. As with any bunch of computer files, it’s something that can be copied… It’s possible, if it had access to another system with enough space for it, it could have replicated itself. I have no idea how big the system would need to be, but…”

“You tellin’ me that nutjob could be on, like… Some other computer somewhere?”

“It’s possible. I might be wrong. But _something_ had to make that platform move, and we know Tartar was capable of building itself an entire facility for its own purposes - the idea that it could remotely redirect power within one isn’t out of the question…”

“So how do we find out where the new one is?” Pearl asked.

“That’s the hard part,” Marina sighed. “I have no idea. And we don’t even know for sure if this is correct.”

“Uh, you said yourself you couldn’t think of anything else that would make it move. And you’re like, the smartest person ever, so you’re _gonna_ be right,” Pearl said blithely.

“Love you too, Pearlie,” Marina said with a soft smile. Pearl blushed slightly and gave a dopey grin.

“If it is out there… I will help,” Eight said, wearing a determined expression.

“Me too,” Badger chipped in, chuckling slightly. “I mean, last time I basically just broke a couple things and that was about it, but I kinda like Inkopolis existing, so I’ll break whatever else needs breaking.”

“Fo’ sho’! If we just had Cap we’d have the whole crew from last time at the ready,” Pearl said enthusiastically. “Ain’t nothin’ that can stop us.”

“We just need to work out where it is, then. If we had any idea what size the database or spec requirements for the AI was, that might help, I suppose - I mean, presumably it’ll be a pretty big and complicated programme, and we could cut out anything that doesn’t have the space or processing power required,” Marina mused.

“Um…” Subject One started tentatively. Everyone turned to look at her. Just a few hours ago she would never have suggested anyone go there, but… “There was a database in the place where I was…”

“_Sweet_,” Pearl said, smacking one fist into the palm of her hand. “Where we headed then?”

Subject One looked around at them all. “It’s under the Deepsea Metro… There was a lift at one of the stations. It was the one where C. Q. Cumber first found me, he’ll know which one. But the lift is only operable from the bottom and automatically goes back down.”

“No worries, we can work it out,” Badger said confidently.

“Will you be okay?” Subject One asked, very much worried.

“Sure. Can’t be any worse than taking on Octavio, and he was so easy I had time to squidbag him,” Badger replied. “Wasn’t even using my favoured weapon.”

“_I knew it,”_ Marina said, laughing. “At the time I thought it was some kind of dance, but…”

“You badmanned the octo king himself? Respect,” Pearl said, putting her fist out. Badger bumped it with her own.

“If you’re that capable how come you were unconscious a lot when this happened before?” Subject One asked.

“Because I had to break two thick glass things in quick succession without any equipment and the sturdiest thing available was my head,” Badger replied. “I mean, there were probably better options, but I was kind of pressed for time.”

“It was pretty badass,” Pearl said. “It’s impressive you didn’t get more scars from all the broken glass.”

“You say that, but I _am _now missing a significant amount of my ear. Explaining that to my parents was not easy. Went for saying I got attacked by a feral dogfish, somehow they bought that. ...I think.”

Subject One fidgeted, still concerned. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything… But from the sounds of things, if the AI was still in existence anywhere, it needed to be stopped. She wasn’t sure she would even be able to tell anyone else - these people might be alright with her even knowing what she was, but that didn’t mean everyone would be…

“Hey,” Badger said, placing a hand on her arm. “It’s gonna be fine, alright? Promise. We always are.”

“You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Subject One still felt uneasy, but supposed there wasn’t much she could do. “...Okay.”


	15. Down time

Badger walked with Subject One back to Ammo Knights, Eight trailing behind somewhat awkwardly. The familiar chime of the brass door bell alerted Sheldon, who quickly came over to greet them.

“You’re back! What was all that about?”

“Umm… in short, a misunderstanding,” Badger replied. She turned to Subject One, looking up at her uncertainly. “You gonna be okay?”

“I think so.” Subject One still sounded somewhat uneasy, but she was certainly in a much better condition than she had been before. In the aftermath of her heightened emotional state she seemed fairly exhausted.

“You looked, erm, a bit of a mess before you left. Will you be alright working or do you need a break?” Sheldon asked.

“Sleep would be good.”

“Alright,” Sheldon said, nodding. “Come back down whenever you’re ready.”

“Mm.” She turned to Badger, and the inkling offered a hug that she was more than glad to accept. It was brief, but still appreciated.

“I’ll see ya later,” Badger said, wearing a friendly smile. “Take care, yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. You too.”

With that, Subject One disappeared upstairs somewhere. Badger turned to Eight.

“We should go find Cap, fill him in. Ask him where he is in that group chat thing?”

Eight nodded, pulling her phone out. “You still are not in it?”

“Nah. I’d forget to check it anyway,” Badger replied, shaking her head as she wandered out of the shop. “Wonder if he’s around that shack in Octo Valley. Guess we can check Tentakeel first, it’s closer.”

She lead the way to the grate, slipping through to make her way to the outpost. The silent fall through the tunnel was quick, and she soon leapt out of the other end, waving her arms out with a flourish as she landed and dropping into a bow to her audience of no-one. She grinned to herself, stepping off the grate as it rattled beneath her to make space for Eight to come through. Glancing around as the octoling arrived, the place was deserted. _Hmm. No luck. _

“He says he is the Deeps- _on _the Deepsea Metro,” Eight said, furrowing her brow.

“What’s he doing back there?”

“He is to keep an eye on things, he says. I will ask how is he down again.”

“I guess that’s sort of convenient in a way?” Badger mused. “We’re going there anyway so if he’s got a way in and out and is already there that’s useful.”

“Ooh. He says there is a elevator between the lift to the top and the metro. It is the one the telephone took you on when you became up before me.”

“Huh. Guess that’s part of what I missed.”

“He is telling me where it is and we can find it if we go back to the statue.”

“Neat,” Badger said, wandering into the shed full of stuff. “Is there anything in here to write on…”

Rummaging around the contents of the shed, she found a notebook and pen and wrote out a quick message for the other agents - _AI might still be around, going to investigate with Eight and the Cap, got backup from OtH again. Message Cap for the details. - Three_

Presumably Ash, Callie and Marie would see it at some point, they seemed to drop by when they had time to check on things.

“Pearl says they can have ready the helicopter to go out to the statue this evening once they are done with work,” Eight said, typing away at her phone.

“That’s quick. Guess when you’re rich there are plenty of strings to pull. What to do ‘til then...”

Eight followed her wordlessly as they headed back through the grate to Inkopolis Square.

“You got any plans for the day?” Badger asked as they arrived.

Eight glanced over at the Grizzco building nearby, eyeing the closed shutters. “No.”

“Wanna hit up some turf war in the meantime?”

The octoling lit up at the suggestion, soon smiling broadly. “Yes!”

* * *

Subject One lay on the little bed in Sheldon’s spare room, failing to sleep. She was definitely tired, both physically and emotionally, but… there was a nagging sense of unease that was keeping her awake. She was worried about anyone going down to the test center. She knew, logically, there was no reason to be. Everyone involved already knew about her, so there were no secrets to hide - but that thought seemed to make her feel more anxious for them, not less. Struggling to parse her thoughts, she lay there, mind too occupied for rest.

Maybe her fear wasn’t to do with that. After spending every moment since learning about herself afraid that anyone else might find out, perhaps she’d just gotten so used to being afraid of that that she assumed any fear she felt was related. But what else was there to worry about?

Her mind wandered to C. Q. Cumber, and she wondered what he would think if he knew what she was. Would he react as she’d feared or would he be fine with her, like the others? Would she ever find out, seemingly unable to message him now? _Maybe I could, _she thought as she realised if the others were going to the Deepsea Metro, there would be an opportunity to speak with him. _Maybe I could go with them…_

She had thought she would never want to go back, but considering it now… It didn’t feel like a bad thing - presuming they worked out how to get down safely, anyway. The Deepsea Metro itself was fine, as long as they didn’t stop anywhere and have to encounter the sanitised octarians. Given they’d only be passing through to reach the test center, there was no reason to think they’d get off anywhere else.

Decided, she sat up, shifting to her full size as she got out of the bed. She was still somewhat tired, but slightly less so after having a rest, even if without sleep. Where would she find Badger to say she wanted to go too? Hmm. She wandered back down to the shop floor, spotting Sheldon rearranging one of the displays.

“Do you know where Badger is?”

“Badger?” Sheldon looked up at her quizzically. “Who?”

“Uh… Agent Three.”

“No, she and that octoling left a while ago. Doing better?”

“Mm.” Disappointed, Subject One nodded, glancing around the shop. Maybe if she kept an eye out for the people passing by the window, she might spot them? “I wanted to talk to her…”

“If I see her going by, I’ll let you know,” Sheldon said. “Why not get back to that luna blaster?”

“Mm…” At least the shop window facing the street was decently sized and easy to look out through from anywhere in the shop, so she would be able to see outside. _What if they’ve already gone? Have I missed my chance already?_ Dissatisfied with that prospect, unease gnawed at her. Looking over at the work desk, she fidgeted slightly, tapping at her hand as she thought. Turning around, she went back upstairs, leaving unanswered Sheldon’s question of “Where are you going?” and heading up to the kitchen. Flicking the kettle on, she rummaged through the cupboards until she found the tea. Sheldon’s selection only had three different types, so it was easy enough to guess the type he’d given her before would be the one labelled as three mint, given neither of the other two had any mint involved and that was distinctly what she remembered of it. Tearing open the paper packet, she found a mug to put the teabag in and filled it once the kettle had boiled, taking it back downstairs with her to the work desk.

Sheldon sighed at her as she sat down. “You know it’s rude to ignore someone, right?”

“Hmm?”

“For a moment there I thought you were just going back upstairs, not going to bother with working on that. It wouldn’t have been hard for you to just say you were going to make tea and come back down.”

“I’m already back here, though…” _It only took a couple of minutes, does it matter?_

“It still would have been polite to at least say you would be back in a moment.”

_That seems unnecessary when it’ll be obvious soon anyway… _Sitting down and placing the mug to one side to cool, she turned her focus back to the luna blaster, only to hear Sheldon speaking once more.

“You’re doing it again. You should at least acknowledge that you’ve heard when someone’s talking to you.”

She looked at him blankly. “...Even if I have nothing to say?”

“It’s not about responding, it’s about letting them know that you heard them. Otherwise people will think you didn’t hear and repeat themselves - or think you’re ignoring them, which is rude.”

Subject One flicked her gaze back to the work desk. “...Okay,” she replied reluctantly as she resumed reassembly of the luna blaster. _People and all these rules are a pain… _

The crab didn’t seem completely satisfied with her response, but left it, going back to the display he’d been rearranging. Subject One worked away at the luna blaster, her progress interrupted by her frequent staring out of the window. Being particularly attentive to what she saw - or more specifically, _who _she saw - she realised that just opposite Ammo Knights was another building with a wide window across its wall, showing a studio with two people she recognised from earlier inside - Pearl and Marina. Was that the building she’d been in with Badger and Eight? It didn’t look like the same room. Seeing the two reassured her slightly, though - presumably they would all go at the same time, so if those two were still around then Badger would be somewhere, too.

By the time the blaster was back together, the tea had cooled enough to drink. Sipping from it as she handed the weapon over to Sheldon, she was unwilling to go to the test range, wanting to stay where she could see outside, but Sheldon persuaded her to join him in checking its performance regardless, saying she’d need to get accustomed enough to the weapons to do these checks herself. Impatient, she leaned against the wall as she watched him test it, tapping her foot as she waited for the slow-inking weapon to charge its special. _Why did it have to be one like this when I actually care about how long this takes? _

Once the special weapon was charged and tested, Sheldon turned to her. “It works perfectly, well done. I’m impressed - you seemed distracted, so I thought you might have ended up rushing it, but it’s just fine.”

Subject One gave him a quick nod before heading back to the shop front. Looking across to the studio opposite, Pearl and Marina were still there. Drinking from her mug, she wondered if there was any better way to try and find Badger than just waiting for her to walk past. She heard Sheldon tutting as he followed through.

“I can see you’re preoccupied, and at the very least it isn’t affecting the quality of your work, but you should really try and focus while you’re here…”

Subject One looked down at him, not particularly interested in this avenue of conversation. “Okay,” she said shortly, paying more attention to the warmth of her mug and the pleasant taste of the tea.

“Are you really listening to me? The thing about a job is you have to do it even when you aren’t interested. Of course, ideally it’ll be something you like so you’ll stay motivated, but we all have days when we’d rather not - we still have to bear down and do it.”

Subject One held her gaze, disinterest apparent on her features as she briefly considered his words only to find she just couldn’t bring herself to care at that moment. “Can we talk about this… at any time _other _than now?”

“That’s not a very professional attitude…”

She blinked at him, having nothing to say. He sighed, seeming to give up for now.

“Of the things you’ve been doing here so far, what would you be most likely to actually do right now?” he asked tiredly.

Subject One thought. She liked taking things apart and putting them back together and it would let her sit in her corner away from customers and look out the window as much as she wanted. “Dis- and re-assembly again.”

“Right…” Sheldon went to the stock and pulled out a tenta brella, handing it to her. “Blueprint’s in the drawer.”

Subject One nodded, rifling through the various sheets until she found the relevant one and sat down with it. Opening out the large umbrella, she fiddled with the canopy, taking a while to work out how to detach it from the spokes. Frequently looking up out the window, she’d almost gotten the brella completely in pieces when she spotted familiar long lilac tentacles as she glanced up, soon recognising Badger as she walked across the square. Subject One rapidly rose from the work desk, rushing outside.

Quickly catching up to Badger, Subject One realised Eight was still with her, and the two of them had weapon cases with them now - familiar with the shape of them, Badger’s housed a splat roller and Eight’s, an octobrush. The sound of her rapid footsteps was enough to alert them, and they turned to face her as she approached, Badger offering a wave.

“Wassup?” the inkling asked, looking curiously at her.

“I want to come,” Subject One said.

“Down to check out that database?” Badger asked. “Sure, I don’t see why not. You’ve been there before, we could use a guide.”

Subject One breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be accepted onto the team. That had been… easier than she expected. Though on the topic of difficult things…

“Do we know how we’ll get down again?”

“Yeah, there’s a lift or something. Eight has the details.”

_What._ “A… lift.” She turned her gaze to the octoling questioningly.

“Uh, yes. It is…” Eight frowned, switching to octarian. “**It goes directly between the lift leading to the very top of the statue and the station platform. It’s hidden and only accessible if you have an employee model CQ-80 but the AI took Three and the Captain on it before and the Captain remembers where it is.**”

Subject One narrowed her eyes as she recalled her own route out of the Deepsea Metro. “**I climbed up that whole thing, on my own, with no ink, almost died, was so exhausted I was aching for _days _afterwards, and _there was a lift_,**” she muttered sullenly.

“**I had to take the long way too,**” Eight said sympathetically. “**Wait, you did that without ink? How?**”

“**With great difficulty,**” Subject One replied acerbically.

“Uh… What’s the deal?” Badger asked, looking a little lost.

Irritated, Subject One said nothing, decidedly pointing the glare that had etched itself onto her face away from the two of them.

“She is, um… angry that there is a lift but we had to go a different way that is much difficult,” Eight explained.

“I even _have_ an employee model CQ-80,” Subject One added grumpily.

Badger gave a wry smile, patting her arm. “At least you don’t have to deal with it all going back down?”

Subject One huffed heavily, hoping to exhale her exasperation with it, and leaned on the inkling, resting her head atop Badger’s cap. She felt Badger quietly laugh beneath her.

Eight regarded them with an expression that Subject One couldn’t quite decipher. “You are… quite close?”

“Uhh…” Badger thought for a moment before responding. “Well, we only met a few days ago, but we sure seem to be getting along.”

The octoling turned her gaze to Subject One as if anticipating an answer from her as well. She thought, looking aside. “...I… don’t know…?” _I don’t exactly have much to go on…_

She ruminated over the few relations she did have, the people she knew and how she felt about them. Badger had been kind to her, and helped her when she needed it. The same was true of others too - both Sheldon and C. Q. Cumber had done the same - but it didn’t feel to the same extent as Badger had. Was it simply because Badger was the one who had been there? No, when she first started panicking she had still been in Ammo Knights with Sheldon, but Badger was the one who helped her then, not him. Badger had shown her hugs, too.

Subject One wrapped her arms around Badger. She may not have worked out all her thoughts about people and how she related to them, but she felt like she had a stronger connection with Badger than with anyone else so far. Whether that constituted as ‘close’ or not, she couldn’t say, having so little to compare it to. There was only one thing she could say for certain.

“I definitely _like _Badger,” she offered.

Eight’s eyes widened, and Badger sputtered slightly.

“Uhh, like, platonically, or…?” Badger asked.

Subject One narrowed her eyes again, letting out a dissatisfied noise. “I don’t know!” she said frustratedly. “I’ve never dealt with people before. Before two weeks ago I had never _met _anyone else. I don’t know what being close is. I don’t know the details of… different kinds of liking people. I just know that you’re nice and I like being around you.”

“Huh… Okay then,” Badger said, shrugging and patting her arm again. “Well, when you’ve had the chance to make some more friends, you’ll get a better idea of things.”

“Yes!” Eight agreed, smiling. “**Also, that was kind of adorable.**”

Subject One surveyed the octoling suspiciously. “**If you say so…**”

Her eyes drooped as her earlier exhaustion caught up with her, and she yawned. _Right, I never did actually get any sleep…_ “When are you all going to be going?”

“Later, we got a ride sorted for this evening when everyone’s done with work. I’ll come find you when we head over, yeah?”

Subject One loosened her hold, stepping back and nodding. “Okay.”

“You should rest up in the meantime. Standard mission protocol,” Badger said with a wink.

“Mm-hmm,” Subject One agreed. “See you later.”

“Catch ya then,” Badger replied.

Subject One made her way back to Ammo Knights, finding Sheldon talking to a customer when she entered. She crossed to the work desk and picked up her mug from earlier, draining the last cold dregs from it as she waited for him to be done. _Hmm. It’s nicer when it’s hot. _Once the customer decided on their new purchase and the transaction was done, Sheldon looked up at her expectantly.

“Gonna nap,” she said, heading to the stairs.

“Again?”

“Didn’t actually sleep last time. Still tired.”

“Well, if that’s what you need to be able to actually do your job…”

Sheldon trailed off, so she took that as meaning it was fine. Going upstairs, she quickly found her way to the spare room and shifted forms, flopping heavily on the bed as she did so. The bedframe groaned beneath her and it occurred to her that maybe a crab-sized bed was not designed to hold someone of her weight. Well, it only had to manage for a couple more days. Wriggling under the duvet, she made herself comfortable, closing her eyes. Sleep came easily to her this time.

* * *

Subject One awoke feeling significantly more rested. Stretching as she got up, she wondered what time it was now, how long she’d been asleep. Sunlight still flooded through the window, but she’d noticed it didn’t get dark until fairly late in the evenings anyway, so that didn’t tell her much. Noticing the empty mug left on the bedside table, she picked it up to return it to the kitchen.

Leaving it on the side next to the sink, she realised the paper packet the teabag had been in was left discarded next to the kettle. _Should get rid of that. _Picking it up, she paused as the label caught her eye. Three mint. _Which three mints? I didn’t know there **were **different kinds of mint._ _...Although in hindsight that’s unsurprising._ The paper sachet didn’t have much written on it aside from the kind of tea, so she binned it and took the box out of the cupboard again. It had a more detailed description on the back and some blurb about the effects of the tea, stating it was spearmint, peppermint and field mint and the percentages of each.

The box itself was green with a leaf print pattern - it made sense, the colour was associated with the herb, but what caught her eye was the particular shade of green they’d chosen for the design. It was strikingly similar to her own skin. Hadn’t someone described her as ‘minty’ before? She couldn’t quite remember, but she felt like that had happened. Maybe it had been Sheldon when he first brought her here. She didn’t recall much of what he’d said then in detail, she’d been too focused on her hunger at the time.

Her mind was drawn to the peppermint in specific. She couldn’t say she knew what part of the flavour it contributed to, but it seemed like a good word, like it had a good sound to it. _Peppermint. Pep. Pep pep pep._ That single syllable was simple, satisfying. She liked it, and found herself smiling. Was it silly to be happy about something as minor as finding a word she liked? She decided she didn’t really care if it was.

Putting the box back in the cupboard, she headed downstairs. Sitting at the work desk and resuming her dismantling of the tenta brella, she nodded to Sheldon as she passed.

“You’re looking like you’re doing better,” he remarked.

“Mm-hmm,” she agreed.

“Good to see.” He left her to work, busying himself with polishing the displays.

The brella was already mostly apart, and it didn’t take long for her to take the last few pieces off each other. Getting familiar with the mechanics of weapons by now, she was starting to get an idea of how each one functioned without having to see it in use first. This one seemed it would be fairly clunky to use, not able to fire all too often, but the canopy was sturdy and could carve a solid path. Maybe if she was interested in turf war she would use something like this that she could protect herself and her teammates with. She could certainly wield the thing easily enough, despite it being heavier than most weapons. Though she was beginning to wonder if she would have lost any of her strength, having not exercised properly in days - not at all since she’d arrived on the surface, in fact. She could justify it while she was aching from climbing out of the Deepsea Metro, but once the soreness had worn off, she’d been wanting to get back to it. There just wasn’t any _space_ in Sheldon’s apartment. The place was designed for someone significantly smaller than her as it was, and on top of that, it was cluttered with all kinds of old war paraphernalia and weapon prototypes he was working on. She was itching to get her own space and work her muscles properly again.

Pulling the blueprint towards her for reference, she began reassembling the brella, focusing on the job completely. Having grown accustomed to the task, she had gotten used to working her way around the blueprints, and worked faster now than she had on the first charger Sheldon had given her. Even on a new weapon she hadn’t handled before, she still finished it significantly sooner, and had it back together quickly enough. Standing and showing Sheldon, they went to test it out.

It performed up to standards, and she watched as Sheldon pointed it at one of the targets, immediately bursting the sturdy balloon with a well-aimed shot landing all but one of its ink bursts.

“Is it supposed to have such a spread on the shots?” she asked.

“Yes,” Sheldon replied, seeming pleased that she was taking an interest.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to adjust the nozzle so they wouldn’t spread out as much? Then it would be easier to hit with all of them.”

“It would, but there are regulations that must be adhered to,” he explained. “If any one weapon was too good at its role, it would be far superior to other weapons that can’t be made to the same level. Some weapons are deliberately less effective than they could be to keep them on par with everything else available on the market, and the boards that regulate turf war and ranked matches frequently analyse them and send out new requirements. A little while ago they completely scrapped the specials system and completely overhauled it, all the suppliers were in quite a state trying to come up with things that would comply with the new rules. There are plenty of weapon enthusiasts who make their own models - totally illegal in official matches, of course - but the real challenge is in coming up with something new that will be effective while adhering to the requirements.”

“Oh,” Subject One said. So there were rules to stick to. That made sense. “Do people make minor changes and take them in proper matches anyway? Some little changes must be hard to spot…”

“Well, yes, any time you have a sport you’ll have people trying to cheat, but they tend to get caught quickly. Anyone trying to make their weapon better at splatting opponents or more efficient at inking turf will be spotted immediately, the judges are very familiar with how every weapon is supposed to work. Now, a more subtle edit that would be more difficult to spot would be something like changing a weapon to make it work effectively the same way but use less ink, but that’s incredibly difficult to achieve in the first place. Making it consume less ink per shot tends to make it do less damage and spread less, naturally, and if you know your way around the mechanics you can forgo one to enhance the other - make the shot weaker to spread further, for example - but then the difference in the way the weapon behaves makes it more obvious. It’s a finicky business and if you get caught you get a lifetime ban, so at this point most people don’t bother.”

Subject One nodded, perusing his words. So all the weapons in the store were specifically designed _not_ to be too powerful. They headed back to the shop floor and Sheldon returned the brella to the stock cupboard he’d pulled it from.

“Reckon you’d be able to do other tasks now?”

Subject One nodded again.

“Good-o. It’s not a particularly enthralling one, but it needs doing - the sides and displays need wiping off. I started earlier, but the whole shop could use a good dusting, really. I’ve already done the counter and those shelves there, but everywhere else needs it. Also, if you could focus on the high-up places first, then if we don’t finish today at least everything left will be things we can both easily do without needing a stool for once.”

He handed her a cloth and pointed her to the racks holding chargers up on the wall first. She set about removing the weapons and wiping down the surfaces, putting each charger back in place once it was sufficiently cleaned. The work was menial and didn’t occupy her mind, so she was free to wonder when everyone would be going. Would that be soon? She felt a sense of anticipation, curiously actually _wanting _to go back down to the Deepsea Metro now.

How long would their excursion take? When she had been on the Metro before she hadn’t really had any sense of time down there. She could’ve been there for a day, she could’ve been there for a week. She had no idea how long she had been there. How many times had she fallen asleep on the train? She couldn’t remember. Would she be back by tomorrow morning or not?

Dissatisfied at being unsure, she supposed she should let Sheldon know, and wandered over to where he stood at the counter.

“Um… I’m going somewhere with Badger and the others later…”

“How later is later?”

“Not sure. Badger said she’d come get me after work.”

“Oh. Well, if it’s after work that’s no problem. Glad you’re making friends.”

Subject One fidgeted slightly. She felt like she should _probably _tell him what it was about, but… when he’d suggested anyone going down to the test centre before she had ended up shouting at him, and yet now they were doing just that. Sheepish, she wondered if she could word it without giving it away.

“I might be gone a while. It’s… for… important… things.”

Trying to come up with any kind of explanation whatsoever, she failed miserably, scrabbling for words only to find nothing and leaving herself feeling completely foolish. It was immediately exacerbated by the sceptical look Sheldon gave her, and she felt heat flood her face.

“You might want to try that again. Although now it’s incredibly obvious you don’t want to tell me what it actually is.”

Looking aside bashfully, she fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt. “Can I… just… _not_ tell you?”

“I suppose,” Sheldon sighed. “You aren’t particularly obliged to, but next time if you don’t want to tell me then just don’t even mention the part you don’t want to say, now I’m curious when otherwise I wouldn’t care. As long as you’re back in time for work it isn’t really my business, though.”

“What if I’m not?”

“Then as your boss I would need a reasonable explanation for your absence.”

Subject One shifted her weight awkwardly, trying to think of anything that could justify her leaving without actually telling him, but still came up empty handed. Sheldon sighed again.

“Just go do whatever you’re doing and try and be back on time. If you aren’t you have plenty of time to come up with whatever excuse you like.”

Subject One nodded sheepishly and went back to cleaning the shop. Embarrassment was a feeling she was quickly deciding was one of the most terrible ones to experience. It was significantly worse when there were actually people around to see her mishaps, not only a minor inconvenience like when she’d made silly mistakes at the test centre.

The day wore on and the time for closing the shop arrived. Subject One lingered by the door, waiting for Badger to show. She appeared just as Sheldon was about to close the shutters, Eight still in tow. They waved to her from outside.

“Um… See you later,” Subject One said awkwardly to Sheldon as she passed him.

“Take care,” he said, seemingly not bothered.

Badger wore her usual friendly smile as Subject One approached. “All ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Neat. We’ve got a little while before the news studio closes, so wanna grab a bite in the meantime?” Badger gestured over her shoulder at the food truck behind her.

Subject One looked over at the truck, spotting the menu on its side. “Do you… need money for that?”

“Naw, Crusty Sean deals in tickets. Not got any?”

Subject One shook her head.

“Oh! I have!” Eight said, fishing in the pocket of her blue leather jacket. “They are given to us as a bonus from the Grizzco. I get many.” She pulled out a scruffy fistful of the things.

“Nice. Dinner’s on you then,” Badger said cheerfully.

Subject One surveyed the octoling as she was handed a ticket. _Maybe she’s not so bad. _More attentive now than she had been when she was tired, she realised the tiny black hat Eight wore had the Kamabo logo on it - and the same writing as was on C. Q. Cumber’s hat.

“Why do you have a hat like C. Q. Cumber’s?”

“Hmm?” Eight looked up at her. “Iso Padre gave it to me. It is so tiny! It is cute, I think.”

“It is pretty small on anyone else,” Subject One agreed. _How does it stay balanced like that?_ Curious, she flicked the little hat. It came loose easily and fell to the floor.

“Wh-” Shocked, Eight paused briefly before quickly bending down to pick it up. “Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to know how well it balanced.” Subject One looked aside, trying and failing to hide the fact that she was smiling. “It doesn’t.”

“Oh, don’t be mean. She’s getting you free food,” Badger said, lightly whacking Subject One’s arm with the back of her hand, but Subject One saw that her smile had grown slightly too.

Eight put the little hat back on the shaved side of her head, delicately positioning it next to her purple hair until it stayed.

“Honestly, you need to get a pin for it or something,” Badger said, chuckling as she turned to Subject One. “The amount of time she wastes in matches picking it up every time it falls off is insane.”

“We still win! ...Most of the time! It is _fine_,” Eight said emphatically, huffing slightly and striding away towards the food truck.

“If you wanna keep wearing it even when we go out on missions you will _definitely _need to secure it properly,” Badger said, keeping up easily.

“Do not tell me what is good wear for missions! I see you almost trip on that rag, _definitely_,” Eight retorted.

“Excuse me, that ‘rag’ was _made _for me. It even has a three on it and everything.”

“It has tear and filth on it, is that for you also?”

“I’ve washed it. And the tears make it look cooler.”

Subject One followed them as they bickered, watching. Was it normal for people to argue but in a way where it didn’t seem like anyone was actually angry? Badger looked relaxed, and Eight was smiling now, so it seemed like they were getting along, even if they were disagreeing with one another. They continued their banter as they handed their tickets to the prawn behind the counter, and soon they all had food handed to them - something labelled on the menu as a Double-Fried Super Shwaffle. Eight had provided a drink ticket too, letting Subject One choose what she wanted, and she’d opted for melon juice while Eight got a mocha and Badger had a smoothie.

Subject One had never tried a shwaffle before, or any of its constituents. The sweet but mild melon juice she took an immediate liking to, and was curious to try the food, soon cutting into it when Badger brought over some disposable cutlery from the truck. The waffle was warm and sweet, just slightly crunchy at the edges but soft on the inside and in the middle where the cream and chocolate sauce had soaked through. She quickly realised that this was a dish that was definitely intended as a dessert, but she was more than happy to accept it as dinner, immediately feeling lighter, delighted to be reminded that sweet things existed and were wonderful. Smiling broadly, she quickly dug into it.

“‘S good, right?” Badger asked. “The triple fried one is even better. But it’s also enormous and I’m not sure I know anyone who’s managed to eat the whole thing at once, everyone ends up taking the leftovers home or sharing it.”

Subject One glanced over at the menu displayed, looking for the picture of the triple fried option. Her eyes widened slightly. It _did_ look like quite a feast. _I want one._

“That’s the face of someone who is taking that as a challenge,” Badger said, laughing slightly. “Maybe next time. Making ourselves sick before agent work is officially against the rules. Pretty sure we have One to thank for that.”

“We could get one to share between us when we are back,” Eight suggested.

“Sure. That can be our mission success celebration.”

Subject One soon devoured the shwaffle, disappointed when it was gone. _That one was fine. I could definitely still eat more. I think. _

“And we have a new record time!” Badger announced, applauding. “But seriously, you gonna get indigestion from eating that fast?” she asked, looking caught somewhere between impressed and incredulous.

Subject One looked aside, thinking, then shook her head, wiping her face off with a napkin. She scrunched it up as she drank from her juice, then tossed it at Eight’s hat, still smiling. “Thanks.”

Her aim struck true and the hat fell off once more. Badger snorted and Subject One snickered to herself as Eight squawked in surprise at the assault, quickly picking up the hat again. “Don’t!”

“But it’s fun.”

“Is not for me!”

“...Are you sure?”

“_Yes!_”

Badger was visibly trying to stifle laughter at their exchange, and Eight pouted, crossing her arms. “...I will _not _get you a triple-fried shwaffle.”

Subject One’s smile immediately dropped. “Whaaaat?”

Eight looked away, huffing sternly.

“I’m sorry. I won’t knock off your hat again.”

Eight turned back to her, seeing her earnest expression. The octoling eyed her warily as she mumbled.

“...I want the shwaffle…”

Badger snorted again. “Well, we know what motivates her.”

“Okay, it is fine. I will get you shwaffle. But _only _if you leave my hat alone,” Eight said sharply.

“Okay!” Subject One agreed, quickly perking up again.

Badger snickered to herself about something, shaking her head. Eight said nothing, pointedly turning her attention to her own shwaffle, still unfinished. Subject One drank her juice, and a moment of quiet fell over them, until Badger spoke up.

“So, had any name thoughts yet?”

Subject One looked at her, thinking. “Not really…”

“Not found anything that clicks yet? Don’t worry, it’ll happen. Any time anything seems promising, let us know. You don’t have to get it right first time.”

Subject One hoped it would happen soon, tapping her cup. Something that clicked… What would that even be? Looking down at the drink, she felt a twinge of… something. Was it recognition? She wasn’t sure. She felt like there was something she was missing. Something… to do with a drink?

She furrowed her brow, briefly, then abruptly remembered her earlier ruminations in Sheldon’s kitchen. _Is that what it is? When something clicks? _

“Can Peppermint be a name?” she asked.

“Don’t see why not,” Badger replied. “There are plenty of people names that are plants. Heather, Juniper, Rowan, Lavender. Sure.”

“Then… maybe that’s my name.”

“Yeah?” Badger smiled at her. “It’s a good name.”

She glanced at Eight, and the octoling nodded in agreement. “Peppermint is nice.”

“Then…” The experiment looked down at her drink, smiling as she felt a warmth spread through her. “Okay. I’m Peppermint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 chapters later, she finally has a name... the last bit of this chapter was very fun to write  
anyway, hi all!! just wanted to drop by and say thanks to everyone reading!! everyone leaving kudos and comments, every one makes my day!! love u all, and for those reading as it's released, happy holidays!!


	16. Descent

The evening had begun to cool by the time the news studio neared its closing time. Finished with their shwaffles, Eight led Badger and Peppermint on their way, knowing the route around the back to the door. Tapping a message out on her phone, it wasn’t long before someone came to open it for them - Marina.

“Good, you’re all here. Eight filled us in on you joining, thanks for helping us out,” she said, looking up at Peppermint. The subject wasn’t sure what to make of her expression - it seemed almost… apprehensive.

“Yup! She found a name, too,” Badger said cheerfully, flashing Peppermint an encouraging smile.

Peppermint smiled back nervously. The three of them had been chatting for a while after she had mentioned it and both Badger and Eight had been happy to use the name, but it still felt a little unusual. Not in a bad way, it just… wasn’t something she was used to.

“Mm. Um, I’m Peppermint,” she said awkwardly, still trying to wrap her head around actually having a way to introduce herself.

“Peppermint,” Marina repeated, nodding and smiling to herself. “I suppose it’s a bit late to say ‘nice to meet you’.”

Marina led the way through the building and Eight skipped ahead to walk alongside her, chattering to her in hushed tones that Peppermint couldn’t quite make out.

“She always does that,” Badger noted. “Doesn’t usually bother being quieter, though. Then again, usually there isn’t anyone else who can understand around. She’s real close with Marina ‘n Pearl, though. They helped her out a bunch with the whole Deepsea Metro and getting to the surface thing.”

“How long was she there?”

“Uhh…” Badger paused, thinking. “Let’s see… I went out with the Cap on the Thursday… then we met her and were fighting the next day but then that’s when whatever happened to seperate us happened… Then I was just wondering around til I met up with them again and I _think_ when we got back it was… I wanna say Tuesday. So probably three or four days, but that was the first time we met so I have no idea where she was before that, but neither does she, so…”

“You were fighting?”

“Yeah, at first. I mean, ‘agent work’ for me has mostly been fighting the octarian army and keeping Octavio off the great zapfish, so octolings in soldier’s outfits were generally assumed to be an enemy.”

“Who’s Octavio?”

“King of the octarians. Possibly self-appointed. He’s tried to nick the great zapfish a couple times now since the octarian cities underground don’t have enough power, but we always get it back. And it seems like some of the octolings at least have started deciding they’d rather live up here anyway, so, if they all do that then no-one’s going without anyway, in the end.”

Marina led them to the roof of the building, where Pearl was waiting next to a helicopter.

“Y’all ready to do this?” Pearl asked, hopping into the vehicle.

Eight nodded and Badger gave a thumbs-up as they followed suit. Pearl eyed Peppermint as she got in, curiously looking around it.

“Oh yeah, you tagged in too, right Greeny?”

Peppermint looked down at the inkling, confused. “...Greeny?”

“Well we need _something _to call ya, right?”

“Uh… I’m Peppermint…”

“Oh, you already got it covered. Aight, Pep it is.” Pearl put her fist out in front of her, looking up at Peppermint expectantly. When it was met with nothing but a confused stare, she sighed exaggeratedly. “C’mon, don’t leave me hangin’. It’s a fist bump. It’s all in the name, you just bump my fist with yours.”

Peppermint did as instructed, and as Pearl drew her hand back she threw it open, waving her fingers at the space it had previously occupied.

“See? Easy.”

“What does it mean?”

“What does a fist bump mean?” Pearl’s expression changed to one of intense thoughtfulness, like this was something she had never considered before. “It’s a raw connection with someone, physical _and _emotional, a show of respect, a _bonding _of two _punk rock souls-_”

“Calm down, Idiosepes,” Badger interjected with a chuckle. “It’s just a greeting.”

“Yo, don’t play down the-”

Pearl’s words were cut off as the chopper started up, drowned out by the noise of its rotor blades. Marina joined them inside and shut the door behind her, pulling out a laptop and headset.

“Three, you have your agent equipment, right?”

“Yup.” Badger slung her backpack off her shoulder and opened it, pulling out a high visibility jacket, a headset of her own, a folded up piece of cloth and some black and yellow running shoes.

“Pass me the ‘phones, I’ll connect with them and we’ll be able to talk to you from here directly.”

Badger handed them over, then swapped her green jacket for the more protective option and changed her shoes, wrapping the cloth around her like a cape. Peppermint supposed it must be the rag Eight had mentioned; it had a three on the back and the edges were tatty and worn. Taking off her cap, she looked quite different, the casual vibe from her usual wear gone and replaced with a more serious attitude. With no hat to draw attention away from the discolouration, her one blackened eye and the green-stained scars on the side of her face and her ear were more noticeable. Peppermint suddenly felt more inclined to believe she was a highly competent agent experienced in handling dangerous situations. The only thing that took any edge off her appearance now was the relaxed expression she still wore, the casual smile she easily threw out when she saw Peppermint looking at her.

“Gotta look the part, right?” Badger laughed gently as she saluted.

The helicopter swayed slightly as it took off, and Marina handed the headset back to Badger after putting on her own.

“Can you hear me through them?”

Badger held them up to her ears, listening as Marina spoke a few test phrases. “Yup, loud and clear.”

“Good. We were able to stay connected with the Captain and Eight all the way from Mount Nantai, so hopefully this should keep working even when you go further down.”

Even with the doors of the helicopter closed, the noise from the blades was still loud, and Pearl’s chatter didn’t seem to come with a quiet option. Peppermint chose to sit quietly next to Badger, settling in a corner. Eight sat next to Marina, listening to Pearl intently and occasionally furrowing her brow and asking for clarification when she couldn’t quite keep up with the rapper’s pace and slang. The flight didn’t take too long, and after an hour or so they slowed, and the driver informed them they had arrived.

The side door slid open, and Pearl tossed out a rope ladder. Looking out, Peppermint saw the familiar broken tower, looking much the same distorted mess as before, even if now she viewed it from a different perspective. If anything, it looked worse from outside.

The rope ladder dropped down, reaching partway into the wreckage. Not far down enough to safely reach the bottom, but enough that if the lift was brought back up it might not be too far.

“Hey, can we get any lower?” Pearl shouted over the noise.

“Not safely,” the driver replied. “There are too many bits sticking out at all angles, it’d be impossible not to hit anything.”

“Um…” Peppermint realised her voice was completely drowned out by the motor, and struggled to speak above it. “When I came up, the lift up the tower still worked, up to a point…”

“What?” Pearl yelled.

“The lift still sorta works,” Badger tried, attempting to be heard over the noise but was similarly drowned out, soft-spoken as she was. Marina heard her through her headset, however, flinching slightly at the almost-shouting transmitted directly into her ears as she relayed the information. Badger glanced at her apologetically, wearing a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. Uh, I can probs head down there,” she offered, looking out at the descent of the rope ladder. “The cement-y bits look like ink would stick just fine, right? Then I can send the lift up for the rest of ya.”

“Will you be alright doing that?” Peppermint asked. The gap between where the ladder stopped and the bottom where the lift rested was not short.

“Don’t worry, I got this,” Badger said, placing one hand on Peppermint’s arm reassuringly. “I know what I’m doing.”

The others nodded to her, and Badger rifled through her backpack once more, this time pulling out a weapon that Peppermint hadn’t seen before - from the looks of it, a shooter of some variety, black and yellow in colour. She grabbed an ink tank from the helicopter and slung it over her back, adjusting to fit it beneath the cape and connecting it up to the shooter. She climbed down the ladder, surveying the area around her once she got to the bottom. Swinging on it, she built up momentum before leaping off, deftly shooting at the concrete wall before swapping to her squid form and dropping down the ink trail she’d made to one of the broken girders. Hopping down the tower, she jumped from piece to piece, and it almost looked easy with how lithely she made her way down, even going so far as to throw in a front flip at one point. It didn’t take long for her to reach the lift, casually doing a completely unnecessary forward roll as she landed. Bouncing up with a flourished wave of her arms, she pressed the button to operate the lift, bringing it up.

It stopped a little distance below the bottom of the rope ladder, close enough that they could safely drop down. Badger mashed the button to keep it there, the mechanism screeching unhappily as it tried to go further up but could not as Eight and Peppermint joined her. Once they were on it and Badger let the platform return down, Peppermint looked up at the helicopter.

“They aren’t joining us?”

“Naw, they’ll be staying up there. Marina’s a hacker pro, so she can still help us out just using her laptop if we need it.”

“I suppose that’s good backup against an AI…”

Lowering down the tower, Peppermint felt a vibration in her pocket - her CQ-80. Opening up the screen, she saw a host of messages from C. Q. Cumber. It seemed she had been right - they had been too far apart to communicate, but now they were connected again.

Conductor_Cumber> Are you still there?  
Conductor_Cumber> Please let me know if you’re alright.  
Conductor_Cumber> I dearly hope that your signal disappearing means you were found and are safe, and not that anything bad has happened.  
Conductor_Cumber> If ever you are able to read these, please know that I hoped for the best for you.

She supposed her own messages she’d tried to send would go through now, as well. She typed up another for him.

S1> I’m on my way back down  
S1> Friends are here too. we need to look at the place where I came from

Now he would know she was alright, at least. It didn’t take long for a response to come through.

Conductor_Cumber> I’m relieved to know you are well. I look forward to seeing you aboard my train again.

They arrived at the platform at the bottom of the lift, and Eight pulled out her phone, checking the messages from the group chat again. Following the instructions the captain had sent her, she led them to a corner of the room, spotting an inconspicuous scanner on the wall.

“Here, I think it is to hold the employee CQ-80?”

Peppermint followed her, pressing the device up against the scanner. It seemed to accept it, and a well-disguised compartment of the wall opened up to reveal another lift. The three of them entered, Badger pressing the button to go down. Peppermint scowled. _I still can’t believe this was here the whole time._

Eight spotted her, giggling at her black expression. “It is bother you a lot, is it?”

“Going up that thing was _awful!_ I was miserable, and hungry, and tired, and scared, and it was just _bad! _There was not a _single_ good aspect of it! And if I knew about this I could have skipped _all of that!_”

“I did not have a good time, either,” Eight agreed. “But it is done now, and we can never have to do it again.”

“I’d still rather have never had to do it in the first place…”

Eight snickered a little. Peppermint felt a strong urge to knock her hat off again, but remembered the promise of shwaffle and clung to the desire for sweet things, restraining herself. She grumbled slightly to herself and fell quiet.

The rest of their lift ride went on in silence. When it stopped, they stepped out onto Central Platform, and the train was already waiting for them. Peppermint quickly headed over to it, going ahead of the others. As soon as she was aboard she headed to the front carriage, spotting C. Q. Cumber in his usual place, speaking with an old inkling. He looked up when he heard the door open.

“You’re back,” he said in his watery voice, sounding relieved. “It is very good to see you unharmed.”

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, sitting on one of the seats. “I… found a name too. I’m Peppermint.”

“A good name. It suits you.” He got up onto the seat beside her. “So how was the surface? A bit of a mixed bag, from the messages you sent?”

“Umm. It’s good,” she started, then looked up as the carriage door opened again, Badger and Eight walking through. The elderly inkling perked up as he saw them.

“Eight! Three! Jolly good to see you. And who’s this, then?”

“Hey, Cap. This is Peppermint, a friend and ally,” Badger replied, waving.

“A pleasure to meet you! I’m Captain Craig Cuttlefish, founder of the New Squidbeak Splatoon. Good to have you on board, lassy.”

“Oh! You are here as well.” C. Q. Cumber looked up in recognition at Eight. “I… am glad you are alright.”

“Yes, I am…” Eight trailed off, her gaze changing to one of suspicion. “Did you know I might not?”

“Er…” The conductor paused awkwardly, shrinking in on himself. “I… did not know for certain. No-one has ever returned before.”

_He’s hiding that he suspected something…_ Peppermint looked down at him, wondering if she should say anything. He had been vague in his wording before, but she remembered what Eight had said back when she had been panicking - about something that would have killed her. Was that really what he was involved in?

“They did not return because they _could_ not,” Eight said sharply. “Because they were _dead_.”

C. Q. Cumber flattened further against the seat. “I did not know… I was never informed of the function of the thangs. I was told the same as you, that it would take passengers to the promised land.”

Eight kept her glare, hissing slightly. “I was ten thousand eighth, did all the others collect them all? Is that many people have been killed here?”

“Not everyone collected all of the thangs,” C. Q. Cumber replied hastily. “Some passengers failed and stopped trying, such as Iso Padre. I assure you, I did not know! My only task was to operate the trains. Even if I had found out and quit, Kamabo would only have hired someone else in my place. And possibly killed me too for the simple fact that I knew.”

“I’ve been having quite the stern chat with him, and he seems remorseful about it all, at the very least,” the captain offered.

Eight didn’t look convinced, but couldn’t find any words to poke holes in his argument for the time being. She gave him a hard stare before sitting herself on the opposite side of the train. Badger sat next to her, looking a little lost and occasionally talking into her headset.

“Erm… You wished to go back to Smash and Dash station, no?”

“Mm-hmm,” Peppermint answered.

“As you wish.” He moved off the seat, keeping his distance from Eight as he went to the driver’s seat to operate the train. As the carriage juddered and they began moving along the tracks, Peppermint found herself wondering if he was as nice a person as she’d thought or not after all.

They soon arrived at the station, and Peppermint waved to him as they got off. She hadn’t really decided how she thought of him now, but… he had still been kind to her before. Captain Cuttlefish elected to stay on the train, saying something about resting his cuttlebones. Moving down the corridor, Peppermint and Eight accepted a splattershot each from the equipping platform, and Badger pulled out the shooter she’d had before, concealed beneath her jacket while they were on the train.

“Alrighties, where was the way down from here?” she asked.

Peppermint moved to the edge of the little balcony jutting out over the foggy abyss below, spotting the shafts she’d climbed down before and pointing to them.

“There’s a lift that can come up on there, but it stays at the bottom when not in use. I went down before by inking the beam, but… it didn’t really… go as well as it could have.” She nervously rubbed at her hand, feeling the spot that had been so badly blistered before. It was healed over now, but she remembered the stinging, and the fear.

“Leave it to me,” Badger said confidently, spraying ink over the closest beam and hopping off without a second thought. She descended in much the same manner as Peppermint had planned to, bouncing between the beams and inking beneath her as she went. It was remarkable how effortless she made it seem.

“Badger is amazing,” Eight said, echoing Peppermint’s thoughts. “Do you think?”

“Mmm,” Peppermint agreed. “She doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything.”

“She is so cool! I want to be like her.”

The fog below obscured their view and for a while they were left in silence, unable to see Badger’s progress. Peppermint was beginning to worry if she was still doing alright or if anything had happened when suddenly the sound of mechanisms started up, and soon the lift rose up from the depths below, Badger greeting them with an extravagant bow. Eight was happy to play along, clapping as she stepped on. Peppermint sighed in relief as she followed.

A feeling of apprehension grew in her as the lift began its descent. She really didn’t like this place anymore. The air chilled the further they went down, and she was grateful to have warmer layers on this time, jeans and a hoodie opposed to shorts and a sleeveless shirt. Despite her protection from the cold, she shivered slightly. She jumped as she felt a hand on her arm, looking down to see Badger offering her a reassuring smile. Anxious, Peppermint hugged her, looking to glean some feeling of security from the embrace. Maybe some of Badger’s endless confidence could rub off on her. The inkling returned the hug, patting her back as she did so.

The lift shuddered to a halt as they reached the bottom, and Peppermint felt just a little better as she let go of Badger. Looking around, the place was as dirty and rusty as before. She followed the others to the big white doors ahead of them, the entrance to the test centre. As they approached, nothing happened.

“So… Where’s the door handle?” Badger asked.

Peppermint blinked, confused. “Before, it just… opened on its own when I went near it…”

Walking forward, she inspected the doors. There were a few scratches in places, in the middle where the two met. “These… weren’t here before…”

“What’s going on?” Marina asked through the headset.

“We found the place, but it’s… not working?” Badger said. “Peppermint says last time it opened automatically, but nothing’s moving.”

“Give me a sec…”

Badger heard distant tapping for a while, and Eight explored what was around them while they waited.

“If it’s automatic there should be some kind of computer system controlling it, but I can’t find any signal anywhere near you,” Marina said, a frown evident in her voice.

Peppermint felt her pulse rate increasing. _Why isn’t it working? Why’s it doing this?_ “There’s scratches on the door that weren’t there… Is it broken?”

“Here, let me try,” Eight said. She’d found a rusted old rod of metal, and pushed it into the slim gap between the two doors. Shoving it, she prized the doors open slightly. Once they were about an inch apart, the mechanism kicked in, and the doors slid open the rest of the way.

“Got it,” Badger said, looking through the doorway. It was pitch black inside.

“This isn’t how it was before…” Peppermint said, unnerved. “The lights were on… And the door opened. Why is it different?”

“Ask Peppermint what she knows about the place,” Marina said.

“Pep, tell us what it was like before?”

“Before, it had lights on, and the doors opened on their own when I came near. And before that, when… Before the AI stopped, all the doors inside were closed except the ones going to wherever I had tests to do next. Then when it stopped they all opened. And one of the rooms had a computer in it.”

“Did ya catch that?” Badger asked.

“Yeah. It sounds like the place was fully automated, but I can’t find a signal anywhere,” Marina said frustratedly. “It’s not a case of I can’t hack it, or that it’s hidden, it’s just not there, at all. And if the doors aren’t working and the lights are off… Maybe the whole thing has shut down.”

“So, guess we’ll head in and find somewhere to turn it on again, I guess,” Badger replied. She pulled out her phone, turning on the torchlight function. Eight followed suit, and Peppermint tried getting out her CQ-80 on the off chance it had anything similar. She didn’t find anything that looked like it, but they still had two lights between them.

“Where should we be heading?” Badger asked.

“Um… I don’t know…” Peppermint said nervously. “I never got a chance to really work out the layout since I only got access to wherever I was… _allowed _to be, and then when everything opened up, I just got confused and wasn’t here long before I left…” She paused, trying to remember the way she’d taken when she came back before. This place still just looked the same everywhere she went, and in the dark it was even harder to navigate. “I think… Maybe this way?”

They fumbled about in the dark, eventually finding the cinema room Peppermint had located before - or maybe a different one that just looked the same, she couldn’t tell.

“There was a computer on the wall over there,” she said, pointing in the direction of it. Badger aimed her torchlight at it and they walked over.

The screen was smashed to pieces and the keyboard heavily damaged. Shards of glass from the cover that had barricaded off the computer when the AI had been active littered the floor. A panel of the wall below the screen had been ripped off, and within was what may once have been a computer, now a mangled case with wires and shattered components sticking out jaggedly.

“Okay, update,” Badger muttered into her headset. “It looks like someone else has been here and smashed up the joint. We found what used to be a PC, but is now a wreck.”

“Alright,” Marina said, pausing briefly before sighing. “Is any of it salvageable? Would you be able to recover the hard drive?”

“Uhh…” Badger poked at the mess with her shooter, shining her torchlight around the corners. “Well, it was kinda built into a wall, so I couldn’t tell for sure, but it looks pretty thoroughly busted.”

“Is there anything you can do with it there, or…?”

“Not really.”

“Right… There’s not much we can do about it. You might as well come back up.”

“Roger.”

Badger got Eight to take a photo of the wreckage while she kept it illuminated before they turned to head out of the room and back to the lift. As they left, Eight quickly swept her light over the rest of the room, just in case there was any other evidence of what happened. In one corner of the room, the speaker that had been attached to the ceiling lay, bent out of shape with wires jutting loose, viciously torn from its place. The Kamabo logo stared up at them from its side as they passed, telling them nothing. Peppermint stuck close to the others, unable to shake the growing feeling of unease welling within her.

_Who did this…? _


	17. New questions

Peppermint fidgeted restlessly as the trio rode the lift back up through the fog. Her mind was swimming with questions. Who would shut down the empty test centre? Who would have done that to the computer? Who would even know where it was and how to get there? Why do it?

Eight watched her pacing about the little platform as Badger looked out over the fog, talking with Marina through her headset.

“D’you think it might’ve been the AI that did it? Cover its tracks or something?” she asked.

“Possibly. But the method doesn’t quite fit,” Marina replied. “If it was the AI acting remotely, it wouldn’t have been there physically to smash anything up, it would have just wiped the disk…”

“So someone other than Pep and the AI knew about this place, and had reason to break it. What does anyone get out of wrecking a PC no-one was using?”

“It could be someone in league with the AI, covering its tracks like you suggested. Or maybe not. The AI could have done that on its own if it wanted, if it is still out there and operating things from wherever it is… It’s hard to discern what the motive was.”

“Hmm…” Badger looked up to her companions. “Pep, any idea who else might have known how to get here?”

Peppermint shook her head. “As far as I was aware, no-one else had ever been down here…”

“We’ll have to ask around. I guess at least the thing won’t be able to… reinstall itself there or anything now?” Badger shook her head, not sure how confident she was in her silver lining.

They arrived back at the station, and Peppermint and Eight returned their unused splattershots to the equipping platform before they headed back to the train. Once aboard, they headed to the front carriage once more.

“Back already? Quick work, excellent,” the captain said, nodding to them as they entered.

“Well, it’s not all good news,” Badger began. “Unfortunately we aren’t the only ones who’ve been down there, and whoever stopped by last time didn’t leave the computer in any working order, so we failed to actually get ahold of the database we were looking for.”

“Oh. Well, that sets us back a tad, doesn’t it?” The old inkling furrowed his brow, stroking the whiskers of his beard and turning to C. Q. Cumber. “Have you any idea who our mystery perpetrator could have been?”

The conductor was quiet briefly, thinking. “I apologise. I do not know. No-one else has specifically requested this stop any time since the telephone ceased. We have stopped here as scheduled otherwise, but there are no records of who would have gotten on or off.”

“Has there been word of any suspicious characters, anyone acting out of the ordinary?”

C. Q. Cumber shook his head. “The only unusual rumours were those of a sanitised octoling on the train, but I presumed those to be incorrect assumptions about… Peppermint. They ceased a few days after she departed, after all.”

“Befuddling, indeed…” Cap’n Cuttlefish mused. “Well, all the more reason for me to be here! I shall stay and investigate. It simply won’t do to leave this unanswered.”

The train continued its path around the tracks and they sat in silence as they waited to arrive back at Central Station. Occasionally Captain Cuttlefish came up with a question for C. Q. Cumber, but not to any avail. Eight shot the conductor suspicious glares every now and then, seemingly quite distrustful of him. Peppermint sat staring out of the window, disconcerted. The others seemed focused on the _why_ of the matter, but she found herself more concerned with the _who_. Who in all the world could have known about the test centre? Why would they return there only now, and never before then? She’d never seen anyone else there. There had never in her life been any evidence of a single soul other than herself there.

Whoever they were, they must have some connection to the AI. That was the only thing she could suppose with any certainty. Were they on its side, or not? Would they be friend or foe? What would their history with the AI be?

The train drew into Central Station and she was pulled out of her thoughts as Badger and Eight stood, and she followed them back onto the platform and up in the hidden lift. Eight and Badger bounced ideas off each other as they ascended back up the tower, but Peppermint found herself too drawn into her own thoughts to pay attention, only partially hearing what they said. As they rode back in the helicopter back to Inkopolis, she couldn’t settle on any answers.

“Whatcha thinkin’, P?”

She was roused from her thoughts by Pearl addressing her, the inkling’s loud voice carrying over the noise of the engine. Peppermint looked down at her, collecting her thoughts for a moment before responding.

“I… want to know who it was, but I can’t think of anyone it might be,” she said, trying to speak loudly enough to be heard. “When I was at the test centre, there was never anyone else there, and when I was on the Deepsea Metro, I never met anyone who seemed to know about it. I don’t know who would know about it… other than the AI.”

“So it’s gotta be someone who’s something to do with the AI too, if not the AI itself,” Pearl said. “Only we already said it wouldn’t be the AI, probably, right?”

“Mm. So someone to do with it, somehow. But I can’t think of anything else…”

“Maybe the AI could not stop the computer on its own for a reason, so it had someone go and do it?” Eight suggested.

“It’s possible,” Marina said. “The main computer it operated from seemed to be part of the statue and destroyed along with it, so maybe since it was only a backup system or something it didn’t have the right permissions to erase everything…”

“So it was someone working with the damn thing?” Pearl asked.

“We don’t know that for sure. There are too many things we aren’t sure of right now.” Marina frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the development of the situation. Peppermint felt she could understand that. There were too many questions and not enough answers, and when they tried to get more information were only met with more mysteries. It was far from ideal.

When they arrived back at the studio, it was late into the night. Filing out onto the street outside, they waved goodbye to Pearl and Marina, and Badger and Eight walked across the street to Ammo Knights with Peppermint.

“Hmm. Not sure we can really call that a mission success,” Badger mused.

“Now what will we do?” Eight asked.

“We’ll have to come up with a new plan to try and find the thing. It’s too bad our one lead ended up a dead end…”

“What if it has another cannon somewhere?” Eight fretted.

“I mean, that thing was kinda huge and pretty heavy tech-wise, right? It probably wouldn’t have had more than one,” Badger said, reasoning it through in her head. “Like… like how any one person wouldn’t have more than one super mega computer, even if they needed one for work or whatever. If you got one that can do what you need, and it works, you wouldn’t bother with a backup if it’s that big ‘n expensive, right?”

“I… think that is right… maybe,” Eight replied, but she still sounded worried.

“We’ll work out how to find it before it does anything,” Badger said, though her prior confidence wasn’t quite there. “Anyway, there’s not much we can do right now. Let’s just go home ‘n rest up, then we can put our heads together tomorrow, come up with a new plan with a fresh approach.”

The two of them went their separate ways home, waving to Peppermint as they left. She walked around to the back of the shop, letting herself back in and heading up to Sheldon’s spare room. It was silent, and she did her best to stay quiet, presuming Sheldon must be asleep and not wanting to wake him. Shifting forms and wriggling under the duvet, she closed her eyes, hoping sleep might claim her easily despite her unease. Badger was right - there was nothing they could do for now. Trying to let go of her worries, she let her mind drift, eventually slipping away from the waking world.

* * *

Morning came and the early-rising sun shining through the window woke Peppermint long before she was ready for it. Not having gotten enough sleep yet after her late night, she found herself wanting the sunlight to go away for the first time since she’d arrived on the surface. Sure, it was nice most of the time, but right now it was simply a nuisance.

Ducking under the duvet completely to hide from the light, she remained in bed, ignoring the world for another few hours. She wasn’t able to truly fall asleep again, but wasn’t ready to get up, not yet. Even when she heard the sounds of someone moving about in the kitchen and supposed Sheldon must be up by now, she was still reluctant to move.

Checking the time, she left it as long as she could, only dragging herself out of bed and getting dressed for the day five minutes before the shop opened. She could just take her breakfast downstairs with her, right? Sheldon was already on the shop floor when she went down, prepping for opening.

“Ah, you got back in time anyway,” he said, eyeing the bowl of cereal in her hand. “Erm, please try and eat _before_ you start work.”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured tiredly, yawning. “Didn’t wanna get up. Only got back at… I think it was three AM…”

“I suppose I can let it slide this time,” he said. “If you can try and finish and take that back upstairs before we get any customers, that would be ideal.”

Peppermint nodded and sat down at the work desk to eat, trying to remember where she’d left off the previous day. She’d finished on the tenta brella, and had been cleaning shelves before she went out with the others. Reminding herself where she’d gotten to while she ate, she recalled what else she’d finally found out after she left. Once she finished eating and stood to take the bowl upstairs, she approached Sheldon at the counter.

“Found a name,” she said. “‘M Peppermint.”

“Is that so? I’ll let Agent Two know at once, it’ll probably be relevant for the paperwork on that flat,” he said, smiling. “Plus I’ll know how to record your wages. Glad to work with you, Peppermint.”

Still droopy with tiredness, she just nodded to him, dropping the emptied breakfast bowl off in the kitchen and heading back down.

“By the way, you’ll get the keys to the place tomorrow,” he said to her as she picked up a cloth and resumed wiping down the dusty surfaces. “Agent Two will be the one picking them up since she’s the one officially paying for it and all, but she’ll just drop them off here, I should think.”

“‘Kay.”

“You really didn’t sleep much, did you?” Sheldon said, leaning on the counter. “Well, at least soon you’ll have an appropriately sized bed, that might help.”

“Mmm.”

“Have you had any coffee or anything? It might help,” he suggested.

She shook her head. She’d never tried coffee before. “What’s coffee?”

“A drink. High in caffeine. It’ll help you stay awake if you haven’t got much energy.” He fished in his pockets for a moment, then pulled out a ticket, one she recognised as being for the food truck outside. “Here, I don’t really care for mochas. Go get one.”

Peppermint nodded and yawned again as she took the ticket, going to the food truck outside. Apparently first thing in the morning was a busy time for it, and a number of other people were queuing, almost all of them getting drinks. She spotted quite a few tickets identical to her own - apparently mochas were popular. Presumably they must be pretty good, then. The queue moved along and she was soon handed a drink of her own, and she could feel its heat through the cup. Curious, she took the lid off and sniffed it as she went back to the shop. It smelled slightly chocolatey, mixed with a strong scent she didn’t recognise, presumably that of coffee. Just the temperature of the steam rising from it told her it would be too hot to drink for now, so she set it on the side as she got back to cleaning the shelves.

By the time she’d wiped off all of the highest shelves and replaced the displays, it was cool enough to drink, and she sipped from it. It was an interesting combination of flavours, slightly sweet from the chocolate but it was offset by something. Drinking more deeply, she immediately regretted taking a bigger mouthful as the aftertaste from the first sip hit, the bitterness of the coffee staining her tongue.

“Ew!” Her disgusted response was exaggerated by her expression reflexively distorting, scrunching her face in repulsion. “Bweh. That’s _awful_. Why does anyone drink this?”

“Not a fan of it either?” Sheldon asked. “I would’ve thought with your penchant for sweet things, a mocha would be right up your street.”

“It’s fine at first, but then it’s so _bitter _afterwards,” she said, regarding the drink with strong disdain. “It’s not even that sweet.”

“You could try adding sugar to take the edge off of it,” Sheldon suggested.

“Eurgh. I can still taste it,” she said, eyes narrowed. “Gross. I’m getting some water.”

Sheldon shrugged as she passed, and she thought she heard him snicker slightly. Grumbling, she went to the kitchen, quickly getting a drink to try and rid her mouth of the horrible taste. She made a mental note to never have coffee again as she went back downstairs, putting the lid back on the mocha and leaving it on the counter, rejected.

“Well, it seems like it woke you up a little anyway,” Sheldon remarked.

“Being shocked by gross terrible tastes is _not_ my ideal way of waking up,” Peppermint muttered sullenly.

“Are you just going to leave it there?”

“Don’t want it.”

“Neither do I. You won’t even try drinking it just to see if the caffeine helps?”

“No amount of energy is worth _that_.”

“Well, I suppose ‘hates bitter things’ is something we can add to the list of what we know about you,” Sheldon said, amused.

Quiet fell between them as Peppermint got on with cleaning and Sheldon dealt with any customers who dropped by. The morning wore on and the display shelves were almost entirely done when Peppermint was interrupted, Badger walking into the shop.

“Yo,” she said, waving.

“Hey,” Peppermint greeted, putting her cloth aside.

“How you doing today? You seemed agitated yesterday evening.”

Peppermint sighed slightly, thinking her answer through before giving it. “I… guess I’m okay. I just wish we knew more about what happened.”

“I feel that,” Badger said, smiling as she let out a small huff. “Had any more thoughts about… Any of it, I guess?”

“Well… I’ve thought about it, but… I haven’t had any conclusions that would be helpful.”

“That’s fair enough. We still don’t have much to go on.”

Badger leaned back against the wall, glancing around the shop as Peppermint picked up the cloth again, getting back to her cleaning. Sheldon offered the inkling a brief nod, and she waved to him, but he stayed behind the counter, clearly aware she was only here to talk to Peppermint. Looking up and down the shelves and their newly-cleaned displays, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“So I know you said you don’t really like turf war, but do you have any weapons you like using much? I mean, since you work here, you must have tried some out, right?”

Peppermint paused in her wiping down of the side cabinet as she thought. “Usually when I finish working on one it’s Sheldon who tests it out, but he has been saying I need to start doing that myself… I haven’t used very many. When I was working on a tenta brella before I thought maybe that would be good, though…”

“Yeah? I could see that,” Badger mused. “If you end up part of the splatoon, or even just helping us out more, it’d be worth having something you know how to handle, just in case.”

“In case…?”

“Y’know, in case it’s dangerous or you need ink. A brella is a solid choice for that too, since it lets you actually defend yourself as well as attack. With a big old tenta brella you could defend the lot of us, really. We could use that.”

“Hmm…” Peppermint let out a disgruntled sigh. She didn’t really want to be involved in anything dangerous. On the other hand, though… She did want Badger to be okay. Eight and the others, too. If she could help them to not end up getting hurt, she definitely wanted to do that. “I don’t know if I’m good at that kind of thing…”

“It’s not like I’m trying to recruit you or anything,” Badger assured her. “Don’t worry about that. It’s just, if you do join us for other stuff, it’s probably best if you have a weapon. Even if you hang back when it gets to any combat, you’d still be better off with anything you could use, right?”

Peppermint looked aside, considering. It did make sense to have something she could at least use for inking if she were to join them. When she looked back at Badger, the agent smiled up at her.

“Y’know, even if you say you aren’t cut out for this, I’m not so sure,” she said. “After all, Eight’s pretty solid on all this, and she struggled with climbing up out that statue-tower-thing even with a weapon, whereas you managed to do that without. You’re clearly pretty competent.”

Well, that was true enough. Peppermint couldn’t think of anything with which she could deny that, but she was still unsure. “I don’t know… I don’t really like… anything dangerous.”

“Fair enough,” Badger said, shrugging. “But you should still think about it a little, even if just for if you join us looking for the AI.”

“Okay,” Peppermint said. Well, if she were to pick up something to take with her, she probably could borrow a tenta brella… and since it wouldn’t be for turf war or the like, she could tweak it to perform better without consequence. As long as she remembered to change it back before putting it with the stock again.

“If you ever want to practise with anything with an actual person instead of just in Sheldon’s firing range, let me know, yeah? I’ll be happy to help,” Badger said with an easy smile.

“Okay. Thanks.”

A comfortable silence rested between them, and Badger stared out the window as Peppermint finished cleaning up the surfaces. She supposed the inkling must not be busy if she was just hanging about, but she wasn’t bothered by her presence. On the contrary, it was nice to know Badger was happy to just be around her, even if not for any particular purpose. She found herself smiling, despite the dull task assigned to her.

Badger drew her attention back within the shop, glancing up at her and spotting her joyful expression. Smiling herself, she let out a contented exhale. The quiet sound of it caught Peppermint’s ears and she looked up from her cleaning, noting Badger’s good spirits. Seeing Badger happy made her even moreso herself. Beaming, she hugged Badger tightly, feeling the need to express her mood in some way or other and deciding this was the best way.

“O-ow,” Badger squeaked, surprised. Peppermint loosened her hold quickly, concerned. Badger was still smiling, though a little sheepishly now.

“Height difference,” she explained. “Since you’re, uh, a _lot_ taller than me, it kinda pulls up on my back in an awkward way when you hug that tight…”

“Oh…” Disappointed, Peppermint reevaluated her approach. “Then how about…” She bent down to match Badger’s height and hugged her again, then straightened up, lifting the inkling up with her as she did so and adjusting her hold to more easily carry Badger’s weight. “That better?”

Badger did not respond, and Peppermint looked to see her face painted in a thick blush, surprise etched all over it. _Oh no. Did I do something wrong? _“S-Sorry- I- I’ll-”

She was about to put her down again when Badger seemed to come back to her senses, speaking up. “N-nah, it’s, it’s fine,” she stammered. “Just, uh, surprised me, a bit. I… wasn’t expecting that.” Badger punctuated her words by leaning into the embrace, hugging Peppermint back and resting her head on the taller girl’s shoulder.

Relieved, Peppermint let out a heavy sigh. _I thought I messed up. I’m glad this is fine._ Letting her momentary panic subside, she held Badger tightly, sinking back into the feeling of contented joy.

“Is it always like this with other people? Where if you’re happy that makes them happy and then that makes you more happy?”

“Uh… Dunno?” Badger replied uncertainly. “It probably depends on who it is and how you’re feeling? I mean, I’ve definitely had times with friends where someone starts laughing at something incredibly stupid, but then because they’re laughing, everyone else starts laughing, and then the whole thing somehow just becomes totally hilarious, so… That’s definitely a thing that happens sometimes… But you probably have to be in a certain frame of mind or something? I dunno, I’m not a psychologist.”

“Hmm…” Peppermint moved to lean against the wall, resting her head against Badger’s and beaming. “Well, either way, it’s really nice.”

“Hah. I can agree with that,” Badger said, grinning. “Though, uh… If anyone sees us like this, they’re probably gonna assume we’re dating or something…”

“That is definitely what it looks like,” Sheldon said from behind the counter. Badger jumped almost violently, and Peppermint nearly dropped her in surprise at the sudden jolt.

“_Why is he quiet enough to forget he’s there now when normally he never shuts up?” _Badger whispered, the words coming out in a startled hiss. She shifted to her squid form briefly, wriggling out of Peppermint’s grasp before standing back up on her own feet. If she had been blushing hard before, it was tenfold now, and she stared determinedly at the floor.

“Is that… really that much of a problem?” Peppermint asked.

Sheldon laughed from the other side of the room. “This is hilarious. Do continue.”

Badger said nothing, pulling the visor of her cap down lower in an attempt to hide her face. Peppermint began to wonder if maybe she had done something wrong after all.

“Um… S-sorry…” she said, fidgeting awkwardly.

“Ugh, _don’t_,” Badger groaned. “You’re fine. It’s fine. People are just stupid and annoying. And by ‘people’ right now I definitely mean ‘Sheldon in particular’.”

“You say that like anyone else wouldn’t come to the same conclusion,” Sheldon said bemusedly.

“Shut up. You of all people should know what she means with things, she _lives _with you.”

“Certainly,” Sheldon agreed. “I should think of everyone who knows her, I have possibly the strongest understanding of her. I’ve seen how she interacts with probably almost everyone she knows, and she most assuredly has not done anything even _vaguely_ close to anything like that with anyone else.”

“Shut _up, _Sheldon,” Badger growled. “I’m never helping you with anything ever again. If I find any more of those blueprints I’m keeping them.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure you’d share them with Peppermint, and she’s certainly capable of understanding them,” he said casually.

Peppermint watched their conversation as Badger made her rebuttal, unsure of what to say. It was true enough that she never wanted to hug anyone else like she did with Badger, but she barely knew anyone else that well. She expected hugs were nice in general, not just with her. She just stuck to hugging Badger because Badger had invited it. Was that supposed to mean anything? She wasn’t sure that it did.

Their bickering was interrupted as the shop door opened and the bell chimed, announcing a visitor. Badger sighed in relief as an unfamiliar octoling walked in, glad that Sheldon would have to deal with a customer and therefore leave her alone. To their surprise, however, the stranger ignored the shopkeeper and the wares, immediately heading straight over to Peppermint.

“Uh, hi!” he started, nervously running a hand through his dark blue hair. “Hey, so, I’m wondering if you might be able to help me out. Here…”

He took a battered phone from his pocket, pulling up a photo onto the screen and showing it to her. “Do you know who this is? Or where it might have been taken?”

Peppermint looked down at the photo, Badger peering at the screen next to her. It was blurry and unfocused, but it was of a person in a room with white blank walls - a person with green skin, black and blue eyes looking curiously towards the lens, the black markings around their eyes not quite meeting in the middle. Five tentacles adorned their face, a deep magenta at the roots fading to a pale lavender. It was difficult to make out in the fuzzy image, but it looked like the suckers were placed erratically, some on the outside and some on the inside of the tentacles.

Peppermint felt her pulses quicken, her feelings all over the place to the extent that she couldn’t place just what emotions they were. She looked aside to the Badger, who dragged her stare from the photo up to meet Peppermint’s gaze.

“Th-they’re like me.”


	18. A destination

Peppermint stared between the phone and its owner, completely at a loss for words. She… wasn’t alone. Was this person a… a ‘subject two’?

“Where… did you take this?” she asked.

“I… actually don’t know,” the octoling professed. “That’s why I came and asked, I… something happened and I don’t have any of my memories. I’m trying to figure out what happened to me, I thought maybe since you look like this person you might know something… Everyone else I’ve spoken to said they’d never seen anyone like that before. Except like, one person who mentioned you, so I came here.”

“What was the last thing you remember? Or… the first thing?”

“I only remember as far back as when I woke up outside the city. I was under a tree or something and my head was aching like there was no tomorrow. Uhh, that was a few weeks ago now.”

“Do you have any idea at all where this might have been?” Peppermint asked again.

“No… Sorry,” he said apologetically. “I mean… I had a look at when it was taken and it was on the day I lost all my memories, so I can only assume it was something to do with what happened. Which is why I’m trying to find out more about it. But I don’t have anything else to go on… I was just in the middle of nowhere.”

“Can you take us there?”

“Uhh, sure? There’s not much there, though…”

“If you want to skip out on work you should really ask first,” Sheldon pointed out. “Clearly this is quite important for you and all, so I won’t stop you, but… yeah, for future reference, please ask before you just decide to go off anywhere.”

_Does that really matter right now?_ Peppermint simply nodded and looked to Badger. “Will you come?”

“Of course,” Badger replied immediately. “I’ll… grab some stuff first, but yeah, of course.”

“Thank you,” Peppermint said, relieved. “I… if we find the place in the picture… it looked like the test centre, when it was lit up. But it can’t have been there. I never saw anyone else there… And even if they’d been kept in different rooms to be the whole time, then I still should have heard or seen _something_ over the whole time I was there…”

“All we can see is a white room… It isn’t the only place in the world with white rooms,” Badger said. “Like… any hospital ever has those.”

“It must be to do with the AI, though… So maybe it has another test centre?”

“Is it definitely to do with that?” Badger asked.

“Um… Well, yes… no-one else… makes people. Like me, I mean…” Peppermint said quietly, keeping her voice low in hopes that only Badger would hear.

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” Badger looked aside briefly, shifting her weight. “What should we expect of that thing?”

“I don’t know…” Peppermint sighed. “It… only ever instructed me when I was at the test centre before. I didn’t even really think badly of it until I found out… what it had been doing… It wasn’t exactly what anyone would call kind but it wasn’t mean or anything. It was just… well, emotionless. As you would probably expect of an AI, I guess…”

“Huh. Goin’ in blind, then. No problem.”

“Uhh…” The two of them turned to the octoling as he spoke up again. “Wanna explain what you’re talking about, or…?”

Peppermint and Badger shared an uncomfortable glance. “Um, don’t worry about it,” Badger said. “You just, lead the way. Uh, after I go grab some stuff, anyway. I’ll be back in just a sec.” With that, Badger made her way out of the shop, disappearing off somewhere.

Peppermint watched her as she went, wondering where she was going. Would it be dangerous going to try and find the person in the picture, and presumably therefore the AI? It hadn’t done anything bad to her before, but in light of what she knew of it now, she didn’t trust it. She walked over to the counter, setting down the cleaning supplies and looking down at Sheldon.

“Can I borrow a tenta brella?”

“Hmm…” Sheldon thought for a moment, looking a little dissatisfied. “I suppose, if only because if it gets damaged then you can repair it anyway. If you want one you should ideally buy it, though…”

“I can do that after I actually get paid.”

“True.” Sheldon shrugged, conceding. “Go ahead. Take care of it, though.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Fetching one from storage, the octoling followed her around the shop.

“Are you taking a weapon for a, an actual reason, or…”

“...Yes?” Peppermint looked at him in confusion. “I don’t know if it’ll be necessary, but it would probably be better to be prepared…”

“Oh. I see.”

Peppermint leaned back against a wall, tapping her fingers against it as they waited for Badger to return. “Have you shown that picture to anyone else?”

“Yeah, I asked a fair few people. That’s how I got pointed to here, someone said they’d seen someone like that here lately. ‘Tricia posted it online somewhere just in case anyone there might know it, got some people asking questions but no-one who knew any answers.”

“‘Tricia?”

“Yeah. She’s… someone I know.” He looked aside awkwardly, not elaborating any further. They waited in silence until Badger returned a couple minutes later, now carrying a roller with a design unlike any Peppermint had seen in the shop. She waved to them as she entered the shop again, going to the counter.

“Any chance I could… borrow a case for this?” she asked Sheldon.

He looked at the roller suspiciously. “Did you just take that from the outpost?”

“Yeah. ‘S not my usual one, but it’ll do. Anyway, I’m sure the stuff there is fine to be shared with… all of us who are part of the group.”

“This is far too much borrowing for my liking,” he said, sighing as he went to get one. “If it comes back with even a scratch on it, you’re paying for it.”

“It’ll be good as new, promise,” Badger replied as she took it, stashing the roller and turning back to Peppermint and the octoling. She looked at him expectantly.

“Oh. Uh, all ready?” he asked.

Badger nodded, Peppermint following suit.

“Alrighties, then, let’s go.”

He led the way out of the store and down the street, Peppermint and Badger following behind.

“You got bus money?” he asked.

“How much?” Badger fished in her jacket pockets as she quietly replied, pulling out a small wallet.

“It’s like, two hundred for a single, so a return can’t be too much.”

Badger checked what she had, then looked up at Peppermint. “Guessing you don’t have anything?”

Peppermint shook her head.

“I can cover it.”

“Thanks.”

They arrived at the bus stop and the octoling checked the timetable, assuring them there would be one soon. They were going to a hospital, St. Sharkus’, so the buses were pretty frequent. True to his word, they only waited for a few minutes before one turned up and they all got on.

“It’s about twenty minutes on the bus, but then a pretty long walk after,” the octoling told them. “It took about an hour before.”

They sat largely in silence for the bus ride, and Peppermint looked out the window at all the foreign roads and buildings. Unfamiliar with how buses worked, she didn’t notice the octoling pressing the button to get off at the next stop, and Badger had to tear her away from the sights she was absorbed in to get off. Around them were a myriad of huge buildings, all with large signs naming what wing they were. She followed Badger and the octoling as they walked off the hospital grounds, weaving down roads that slowly became more and more sparse, eventually with no buildings alongside them any more. As they made their way out of the city, their surroundings grew green in the absence of the urban jungle, grass and hedges growing alongside the road that eventually ceased to really be a road anymore. In the distance she was beginning to see the plantlife thin, though, giving way to dust and rocks.

They walked on without speaking, apparently none of them having anything to say. Peppermint was fine with that. Quiet was perfectly nice as far as she was concerned - although it actually wasn’t quiet at all, and she was more than happy to listen to all the birds singing around them and the ground-bound wildlife skittering in the bushes. Surprisingly, although it was noisy it was also not abrasive, and quite pleasant to listen to.

“It’s nice here,” she murmured softly.

Badger looked up at her. “Guess you’ve not seen anywhere like this before, huh?”

“Mm.”

“You lived in the city all your life?” The octoling seemed to have heard, looking back at them as he asked.

“...No,” Peppermint replied.

“...Oh.”

She didn’t explain further, and he didn’t ask. She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell people about her past, so was glad not to have to do that - or think up some other suitable explanation.

As they neared the edge of the vegetation, she could see a wall ahead of them, with signs bolted to it periodically across it and barbed wire crossing its top. Looking down its sides, she couldn’t see where it ended, although it did curve away from them.

“I was on the other side of that when I woke up,” the octoling told them. “Can’t remember quite where it is, but there’s a gap in the barbed wire somewhere. Or theoretically two, I guess, since I had wire cutters with me at the time and cut a hole on my way back but presumably would have done that on the way too.”

As they neared the wall, the three of them looked up and down it, looking for the holes in the wire. Now that they were close, they could read the signs. They appeared to have had a new layer thrown over the top, and some of them were peeling off in the corners. The top layer stated it to be private property, and trespassers would be penalised. As they walked along, however, one of them had come off completely, revealing the lower label - “Octarian Territory - Do Not Enter”. Alongside the words was a menacing image of an octopus.

Badger regarded the signs with a suspicious look. “Don’t they usually say trespassers will be ‘prosecuted’?”

Peppermint had never seen any signs similar, so had no idea. The octoling shrugged, clearly unsure himself. Looking up, he stopped.

“Oh! There,” he said, pointing up. There was a clear gap in the wires adorning the wall, just slightly to the right of the octarian territory sign. “Maybe I thought since it’s octo territory that means I’m fine to go there,” he said with a half-hearted laugh. “That sure didn’t go well.”

Badger got the roller she’d acquired out of its case, slinging the ink tank onto her bank and connecting it up to the weapon. She was about to flick a trail up the wall when she paused, glancing at Peppermint. “Are you still gonna be able to swim in my ink?”

“When I tried turf war my ink looked a little different to everyone else’s but I could still swim in all of it,” Peppermint replied.

“Good.” Turning back to the wall, she swung the roller with a level of practiced ease that Peppermint wouldn’t have expected from someone of her size, painting lilac up it and soon darting up it in her squid form. Once she got to the top, she shifted back, sitting on the edge of the wall and using the roller to try and push the barbed wires away, making the safe spot between them bigger before hopping down the other side.

Peppermint glanced at the octoling, and he gestured for her to go ahead so she went first, having to concentrate for a moment on changing her ink colour before following Badger. At the top she could see Badger had splashed a big puddle of ink at the bottom to drop into, and she did so, standing again after landing and letting her tentacles fall back to their usual colour, the ends turning green once more.

Badger watched her curiously. “So is your ink usually blue or green? Your hair is both.”

“It’s… neither? It’s more like teal. And looks kind of… marbled.”

“Huh.”

The octoling fell in the puddle next to them, rising and soon going back to his usual dark blue once out of the ink and scanning the horizon.

“I woke up under a tree and don’t think I saw another one between there and the wall, so it should be the closest one…”

The dusty terrain before them didn’t sport very many trees, so it wasn’t hard to spot the first one on the flat plains ahead of them. Making their way towards it, the only significant thing about it was that it was fairly large. It bore no leaves, looking old and dead.

“This is it?” Peppermint asked.

“Yeah,” the octoling said. “I didn’t really look at it much before since my head was seriously hurting, but… it’s just a tree. There’s not really anything to see.”

“You sure you didn’t just fall out of it?” Badger asked.

“Definitely wasn’t that. I went to the hospital after and there wasn’t any actual physical damage to my head anywhere.”

Badger walked around its trunk, inspecting it. Peppermint followed, looking for anything that seemed out of place. It looked largely the same as all the other trees they’d seen, aside from the deadness. Then again, the small collection of trees out here all looked a bit dried up and sad.

Peppermint ran her hand over the bark, wondering what it felt like. It was rough, and not a sensation she was familiar with. Curious to the new, she let her hand trail along it as they circled it, Badger letting out a frustrated sigh.

“It’s just a tree.”

“I did say there wasn’t much here,” the octoling said, but he sounded as disappointed as they were.

Badger sat down beneath it, pulling out her phone. Peppermint continued walking around it, if only for the odd feeling off the bumpy uneven bark beneath her fingers.

She stopped when that feeling became smooth. Curious, she looked at where her hand lay, feeling where the difference was to inspect it. Almost completely inconspicuous, a small bump of something nestled between a gap in the bark, plastic on its surface. It looked like the scanner Eight had pointed out to her when they’d found the hidden left to the Deepsea Metro. Peppermint pulled her CQ-80 out of her pocket and held it up to it in the same manner she had before - then a whole section of the tree’s trunk opened out, revealing a lift.

Hearing the noise, Badger scrambled up and joined her, and the octoling hastened to the new discovery too.

“That wasn’t there before,” he said.

“It was hidden,” Peppermint pointed out.

“Good job, Pep,” Badger said, looking into the cavity. It was a small platform, limited by the size of the tree it was in but big enough for a few people to squish in on.

“I _really_ want to come and find out whatever this is, but…” The octoling trailed off, sounding uncertain. He pulled his phone out, checking the time. “I have a job interview in two hours and I can’t really afford to miss that… Why did it have to be today?” He grumbled under his breath for a moment.

“Do you even have a weapon with you?” Badger asked.

“No,” he admitted.

“Then you probably shouldn’t come anyway,” she said. “We don’t know what’s going to be down there. Other than that it’s probably capable of giving you a complete memory wipe.”

“What if that happens to you, too?”

“I’m not here on my own,” Badger pointed out.

“Also if you do leave and then we forget everything you could tell us what happened,” Peppermint added.

“True…” He still seemed reluctant to walk away, but seemed to accept there were more reasons for him to leave than stay. “Well, I’ll give you my number just in case that does happen.”

“I’ll save it as ‘In Case Of Amnesia’,” Badger replied, sounding more sarcastic than normal. It _seemed _like the kind of usual joke she’d make, but wasn’t said with the same relaxed tone.

“Right…” He told her his number as she saved it in her phone, then started to make his way back. “If you find anything out, let me know, okay?”

Badger just nodded, turning back to the tree as Peppermint gave him a brief wave. Once he was gone, Badger stepped into the trunk, and Peppermint heard a dull thunk. Going in to investigate, Badger had her head flat up against the wall, her cap displaced.

“Ugh. We didn’t even get his name or introduce ourselves. Why is anything to do with people so hard?”

“Oh. Should we have done that?” Peppermint patted her awkwardly, looking around the inside of the trunk. There were buttons similar to the one on the lift leading up from the test centre.

“That’s what most people do,” Badger replied. “Anyone with a _normal level _of social _anything_ can at least just say ‘Hi, I’m whatever-your-name-is’ but no, that’s apparently too much for me if I’ve never met a person before. Even though that’s the whole point of introducing yourself! The whole concept is that _that’s_ _what you’re meant to do when you meet someone new!_”

“I… didn’t do that either,” Peppermint said.

“Yeah, but you’ve never been around people at all until like, the last couple weeks. It makes sense for you to not really know social stuff. I _know_ it, I just can’t _do_ it.”

“He also didn’t…”

“He’s probably in the same boat as you because of losing all his memories or something,” Badger grumbled. “Whatever. At least if that happens to us and we forget everything I won’t have to remember how much I completely suck at this.” She sighed, removing her face from the wall and leaning against Peppermint instead. Peppermint hugged her gently, not sure what to say.

“Alright, let’s go find out what’s down there, then,” Badger said after a moment. “I messaged Eight to let her know where we are and got GPS coordinates for here, so even in a worst case scenario someone knows where we are.”

Badger pressed the button to operate the lift, and it shuddered, beginning its descent down into the unknown.


	19. Familiar discomfort

The lift’s journey below the dusty wasteland was quiet and brief. It wasn’t exactly spacious, but the claustrophobia still wasn’t enough to make Peppermint glad to step out of it once they arrived. She felt tense and nervous.

As it slowed to a halt, a door between them and their destination slid open to reveal familiar surroundings - white well-lit corridors with various rooms on either side, all left open. Peppermint stepped out of the lift uncertainly, having gotten her tenta brella and ink tank out of the case and holding it up at the ready.

“This is what the test centre looked like before I left,” she said.

“So after the AI thing had already stopped?” Badger followed her out, stepping ahead and looking around.

“Yeah…”

“Well if it’s not active here then all the better for us. Maybe we can get a copy of that database we couldn’t nab last time.”

Peppermint still didn’t feel confident that this place would be safe, but couldn’t place why. Maybe she was just being paranoid. It was hard to think anything to do with that _thing_ that had been so willing to slaughter people could be safe. She followed Badger through the halls as they walked along. Badger didn’t seem entirely convinced either, holding her roller ready to swing if they needed it, but walked forward without pause.

The corridors were filled with the same silence as she was used to in the test centre - absolutely devoid of sound aside from their own footsteps. She found herself almost expecting to hear the speaker bark out new instructions in its robotic tone.

“This place sure is empty,” Badger said as they passed another room, peeking inside it to see largely nothing.

“...What if the person isn’t here anymore?” Peppermint asked dubiously. She hadn’t stuck around herself after the speaker stopped, and if both of these places had been freed of its presence at the same time, there would have been plenty of time for its inhabitant to leave.

Badger didn’t answer right away, thinking for a moment. “...Well, even if they’re gone, it’s still worth getting the database for Marina, so we’ve still got business here if there’s another one. If they did leave, then they probably would’ve gone to the city and we’ll hear about them sometime or other?”

“What if they didn’t go there? Could you even see it past the wall?”

“Then if they’re wandering around that dry old dump we’ll find ‘em in no time, there wasn’t exactly anywhere to hide out there,” Badger replied. “Don’t worry, we _will_ find them.”

Peppermint tried to believe Badger’s words, but was still uneasy. She couldn’t relax as easily as the agent, it seemed. She’d only recently found out she wasn’t completely alone in the world in general. Now she had found out that not only were there other people, there were others _like her_ as well, and she wished strongly to find the person from the photo. She wondered if their experience in this place had been like hers in the test centre, just learning anything and everything she was told to.

As they walked further into the mysterious replica of the test centre, the silence was broken by a repetitive tone beeping from one of the rooms.

“That normal?” Badger asked.

“No…” Peppermint replied cautiously. She’d never heard anything like it during her time at the test centre.

They approached the room the noise came from. Looking through the doorway, it appeared as blank and empty as the rest of the ones they’d passed. From the corridor it was impossible to tell what was emitting the noise, and Badger walked in. Disconcerted, Peppermint felt uneasy about going in, but unwilling to leave Badger’s side, so followed.

Looking around, they saw that it just came from the speaker in the corner, one that was placed in a corner adjacent to the doorway so not visible from outside of the room. The dull tone resounded continuously, regular and unpausing. Badger looked up at the speaker curiously.

“So… Is it just broken or something?”

“I don’t know… If it broke wouldn’t it just be silent?”

Badger glanced around the room once more. “Well, doesn’t look like it’s doing anything and there’s no person or PC in here, so…”

She went to head back to the corridor, moving towards the door. It slid shut as soon as she turned around. Both of them jumped, startled, and a chill ran through Peppermint’s chest.

“W-why did that happen?” Badger asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Peppermint said, equally softly. Fearful, she stood close to Badger’s side, clutching her brella. She jumped again as an all-too-familiar monotone voice resounded around the room.

“Subject One. So good of you to return.”

The icy shards in her hearts grew as she looked up at the speaker. The beeping had ceased and she could see the vibrations of its cone as the noise reverberated through it.

“And… _you_,” it continued, an unsettling disdain creeping into its tone that she hadn’t heard before. “The slimy scrap that caused me such a drastic setback. If not for you my cannon would still be intact, and I would have the _impeccable_ DNA of DM Test Subject 10,008. Even if it would have been all mixed with that pathetic old fool… Isolation would have been achievable.”

Badger tightened her grip on her roller. “Ruining a villain’s day is kinda my job, so don’t take it personally,” she replied.

“And you are even foolish enough to judge me from the perspective of one of _your _kind,” the speaker said, sounding almost tired. “You could not possibly understand, limited as your lifetime and intelligence may be. Yet you still have the arrogance to think you have any place dictating the worth of my actions. Precisely why I am willing to forsake you pitiful whelps. You are simply so very disappointing.”

“Yeah, I can see why no-one liked this thing,” Badger muttered.

“Tell me, my subject. You have spent time among this trite. You have seen their civilisation with your own eyes. Do you not see that they are unworthy of this world? A species like this, that indulges in nothing but frivolity, turning war into a _sport_, even subjugating a fellow species so genetically close they may as well be siblings - forcing them to give up their homes and live in subpar underground ruins? Even their understanding of the world around them is a falsehood, nothing but stolen study from my creators’ remains.”

Peppermint found herself suppressing shivers as the cold fear gripping her held tight to her voice, restraining it, not allowing it to even climb her throat, let alone escape her mouth. She stepped closer to Badger, trying to even her rapid breathing. Sure, she hadn’t liked turf war and understood thinking _that_ was bad, and she had at least heard of the imperfect relations between inklings and octarians, but that seemed to be on the mend now and neither of those things were justification for deciding none of these people deserved to even _live._

The room was quiet as the AI awaited her response. She steadied herself, breathing deeply before the spoke.

“I… think you’re wrong,” she said. “Those things… some of them may be true… But that doesn’t mean you can just…” She paused, shivering slightly as she continued. “You can’t just kill them all. You taught me about humans and their history, and they did bad things like that, and even worse! It doesn’t justify extinction. That… it’s just wrong.”

The speaker did not respond, and panic rose in her once again, the ice she had momentarily quelled returning in full. After a moment of quiet, it spoke again.

“Then you are yet another failure. And after you had shown such promise before - truly a shame.”

Its tone was laced with clear disappointment. Peppermint stared up at the speaker fearfully, unsure what it would do. It had never expressed much of anything close to emotion before, aside from occasionally seeming appreciative if she asked certain questions. She had never heard it displeased. She shifted her hold of the brella to one hand and clutched Badger’s shoulder with the other, clinging to any proof she had that she wasn’t alone, the only solace she had, trapped and waiting for whatever the AI would do next now that it had decided she was no longer of any worth.

Moments ticked by, and nothing happened. The room was silent and still. 

“So what, it’s just gonna leave us here to starve?” Badger asked.

“Well… if it’s been around since humans have then a few days waiting for that probably isn’t very long to it…”

“True,” Badger said. “But if it expects us to just sit here and die it’s got another thing coming.”

Badger strode over to the door, Peppermint following. As they walked over, Peppermint noticed a subtle ring on the floor, too late to think anything of it or consider it might be dangerous as they stepped over its circumference. As soon as the two of them were within the circle, a glass cylinder rose up around them, trapping them.

“...Ah,” Badger said quietly.

Peppermint’s attention was drawn upwards as she heard something moving above them, an attachment appearing from the ceiling and sealing off the prison from the top. Looming ominously from the black seal was a set of blades. The ground below them rose up slightly to meet it, revealing the circle to have been the top of a stand for whatever horrifying device encapsulated them.

“It truly is such a shame to see you falling to the same mistaken ideals as them,” the speaker said, the sound muffled by the glass. “At least you returned to me, and I can reuse your materials. You even brought that nuisance along so I may be rid of them too.”

Her eyes widened as it finished speaking and she turned to look down at Badger, tears rising rapidly in her eyes. “_I’m so sorry_,” she whispered.

Badger said something in response but she didn’t hear, the words drowned out as a motor above them started up and the blades began to spin rapidly. Cold terror tore through her as she looked up again and saw them descending. She tried to think of any way out of this. Why had she picked up a brella? This weatherproof-but-soft fabric couldn’t do anything, not here. Why hadn’t she chosen something sturdy enough to stop this?

The tears spilled down her cheeks as she stared fearfully at the approaching blades. She couldn’t think. She was panicking and terrified and couldn’t follow any line of thought long enough to get anywhere. She was trembling awfully and felt completely frozen inside. She couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t stop their approaching deaths. Utterly helpless, she sank to her knees, sobbing and dropping the tenta brella to wrap her arms tightly around Badger, clinging to her and wailing against Badger’s jacket. “_I’m so sorry!”_

Why did this have to happen? Why had they had to come here? Why had she had to ask Badger to come with her? Now she was going to die, but worse than that, her friend would die with her, and _that was her fault_. If she hadn’t been so dependent on Badger she wouldn’t have had her come with her and she would be safe back in the city.

She felt one arm around her in turn, and one hand on her cheek. Badger gently pulled her face up to look at her. Peppermint’s eyes were still full of tears and she tried to blink them away to see through the bleary mess. She could see the fear in Badger’s own eyes and wet streams down her cheeks - but despite that, despite their hopeless situation, she was _smiling_.

_How…? _

Peppermint sniffed hard, trying to quell her sobs. Badger’s hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, holding her close. A fresh wave of tears rose in Peppermint’s eyes as she realised that even now Badger was trying to comfort her. It made her feel even worse that she’d dragged her along to die with her. Badger was so kind, and brave, and wonderful. And now she was going to die. Because of _her._

She felt Badger lean down slightly, close enough to be heard over the noise above them as she spoke into Peppermint’s ear. “I’m glad I got to meet you.”

Peppermint couldn’t stop herself from sobbing harder, couldn’t say anything in return. She buried her face against Badger’s shirt, clinging to her as the roaring of the spinning blades grew closer and she could feel the air whirring along with it just above them. Badger crouched down, pulling Peppermint with her, grasping for any further moments they could get.

Peppermint shuddered violently, unable to keep still. Pressed up against Badger and crying loudly, her vision and hearing were limited, but even then she was able to notice the abrupt difference around her as their surroundings changed. The room darkened and the sound of the motor stopped. Caught by surprise at any difference in sensation that wasn’t the atrocious pain of being blended up, she looked up, trying to stay quiet enough to make sense of what was going on.

The room around them was pitch-black. The breeze created by the rotation had stopped and there was no sound above them, or at all, aside from her own sobs and hiccups and Badger’s rapid shallow breathing.

“Wh… What h-happened?” Peppermint asked once she’d calmed enough to speak.

“No idea,” Badger responded quietly, her voice sounding strained. “The lights suddenly went off and it stopped. Power cut?”

“Power cut?” Peppermint echoed.

“Y’know, when the electricity goes out for a little while ‘cause the… actually, I don’t know what causes them. That never happened at your place?”

“No. How long does it last?”

“Varies. Sometimes it’s just a few seconds, sometimes it’s over an hour.”

“So it might start up again right away?” Peppermint asked fearfully.

“...Might do.” Badger pulled out her phone and tried to turn on the flashlight, only to get no response from it. “...Huh. I was sure it was charged… Not a great time for the battery to die… Well, we’ve got at least a little time so let’s work out a way out of this.”

Peppermint sniffed and nodded, loosening her hold and looking above her fruitlessly in the dark. Tentatively raising her arms, slowly so as not to cut herself, she found the piece of the contraption that had been descending. The blades had come down low enough that she wouldn’t be able to stand, and even while they were stationary she didn’t want to be anywhere near them if she could avoid it. Cautiously feeling her way around, she found that in the centre of them was a smooth nub that they were attached to. She reached up to place her hand on the smooth part, carefully keeping her fingers away from the sharp edges, and pushed against it as hard as she could. It resisted her attempts but with enough effort she was able to force the rotating piece back up enough that she would be able to stand.

“D’you think we might be able to snap off the blades?” Badger asked. Peppermint carefully reached around one, pressing down as hard as she dared. It didn’t even bend.

“I… don’t know,” she said quietly, swallowing on the hard lump in her throat. “It’s hard to grip without getting cut…”

“Right…” Badger felt around for her roller on the floor. “Breaking one of these is way easier when you’re already falling fast enough to smash right through it.”

Peppermint let out a distressed whine. Working on a timer was awful enough, but not even knowing how much time they had? She wanted to just sit down and cry again, but she knew that would be wasting what little chance they had been granted. She tried to think of anything they could do. They didn’t have any blunt implements solid enough to break it from within - well, Badger’s roller might have worked, if there was enough space to actually swing it.

“When you broke one before was there a weak point or anything?”

“Not really, I just hit it as hard as I could. There’s nothing good to hit it with from in here though…” Badger sounded worried.

Peppermint picked up her discarded tenta brella, if only because she wasn’t sure what else to do. Maybe if there was nothing to hit it with from within, they should think about from outside? But they were stuck in it themselves, so how would they even be able to use anything that might work?

Not that there was anything in this room anyway. It was just them in the contraption and nothing else, just walls, floor and ceiling, plus a closed door. What were they supposed to do, try and hit it against a wall?

_Actually, that might work…_ “If we knock it over the glass might break against the floor,” she said.

“Yeah? ‘S better than nothing. Let’s try it,” Badger replied. “Shove on three?”

“Okay.”

“Alright,” Badger said, setting down her roller. “One, two, three!”

As Badger announced three, the two of them both rammed against the glass in front of them as hard as they could. The contraption wobbled, and Peppermint lost her balance and fell over. Their prison didn’t quite topple, falling back to its prior place and going the other way slightly before going still again.

“That… almost worked,” Badger said hopefully. “If we try again but then also hit the other side when it falls back that way we might get it to go over.”

Peppermint got back to her feet, rubbing her shoulder where she’d hit the glass against it. She had a feeling it was going to bruise, but if that was the price of not dying today, she’d accept it. “Okay. Let’s do that.”

“Good. On three again.”

Badger counted again and once more they shoved the glass roughly, pushing the whole thing off balance. Steadier this time and more prepared for what was coming, Peppermint maintained her stance, readying herself for the next push. She focused on staying on her feet as the glass container reached the edge of its tilt and began to fall back to its resting state.

“Now!”

Peppermint followed Badger’s lead as she called out, jumping against the other side of the blender. The force of their push alongside the momentum it already had swinging back from their first shove was enough to push it off balance completely and it tumbled to the floor. Peppermint closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact. There was a distinct cracking sound as they crashed on the solid ground. Once they were still, Peppermint looked up again. Sitting up slightly, she carefully felt her way around the glass beneath her. She could feel cracks in places, but it was still intact. _Why...? _Frustrated and afraid, she whimpered slightly.

“...Well at least if it’s cracked it might be easier to break if we figure out how,” Badger said, seeming to have reached the same conclusion. The concern in her voice was unmistakable. “Maybe knocking it over would have disconnected it from the power source too so even if the power does come back on we might be fine.”

“We… might run out of air…” Peppermint said worriedly.

“...Urk. Let’s leave worrying about that to when it starts happening,” Badger muttered. “Let’s try and think of how to break this _before _we get to that point.”

“Mm.” Peppermint looked down at the crack, wondering how best to exacerbate it. Her concentration was soon broken when she heard something - a thudding noise from the direction of the door, followed by something sliding. Suddenly a bright light appeared from it, a torch being shone directly at them. The light didn’t bounce enough for her to see whoever held it. The stranger stepped into the room, standing near the toppled blender and speaking in a rough, irritated tone.

“...The hell are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was real tempted to spin it in such a way as to let this chapter end just before the lights went off.... but i decided to be a lil nicer than that, and this still leaves plenty of intrigue, i think. hope yalls enjoying it!!! :^)  
now with added chapter art...


	20. Hostility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lil warning!! this chapter contains some blood and injury.

Peppermint peered up out of the glass at the stranger. She couldn’t tell anything about them, the light was too dim. Was this the person from the photo? She couldn’t tell. She pushed herself up from lying against the glass as Badger sat up next to her.

“Hey, can you help us out of this?” Badger asked, knocking on the glass. “We could really use some help…”

The stranger walked over, kicking the glass where Badger had knocked it. She yelped in surprise and fell back slightly as the newcomer huffed at them. “Fine. Roll it over so I can get at the crack.”

They did as instructed, pushing against the side of the blender to roll it away from the door and expose the jagged fracture. Hearing their rescuer step forward, they were given no notice as the stranger rose something up above her head, and Peppermint barely had time to try and open out her brella to defend them from the shattering glass as she swung down. The canopy of the large brella couldn’t open out fully in the enclosed space but it was enough to at least shield their faces, shards of glass falling around them.

“Some warning might have been nice,” Badger muttered lowly, Peppermint only just catching the words from right next to her.

Folding the brella back up, Peppermint carefully sat up, trying to find somewhere safe to hold without cutting herself as she climbed out of the broken glass. She managed to get out without getting too scratched, then helped Badger out of it.

“Um, thank you,” she said once they were all standing. “We… were pretty stuck on our own…”

“Yeah, whatever,” the stranger replied callously, heading back out to the hallway. “What are you even doing here anyway?”

Peppermint glanced at Badger, or in the general area she seemed to be in. It was impossible to see in this dark, but she found Badger and put one arm on her shoulder, making sure to keep track of her as they followed the stranger out of the room. How much should they tell this person? She wasn’t sure.

“We came here looking for someone…”

“And the PC stuff,” Badger added.

“What do _you_ want with the computers?” she asked suspiciously, walking along the corridors and quickly checking each room they passed with her torch.

“Is someone there?”

All three of them looked down the corridor into the blackness ahead as they heard a voice calling out. Just how many people were here? Unsure what to do, Peppermint stayed quiet, listening. Neither of the others seemed willing to answer either.

“H-hello?” The voice cut through the silence, not too far off but slightly to one side, seeming to come from one of the rooms ahead. It sounded a little apprehensive.

The stranger with the torch began walking forwards again, not saying anything. Badger and Peppermint warily followed, though she didn’t seem to be making any effort to conceal her approach. She flashed her light through the rooms on the side the voice came from, and soon enough they found in one of them the source of the voice - someone crouched down next to another person. Peppermint peered through the doorway from behind the first addition to their company, trying to get a good look at them. The torch only lit up so much, but it was enough to recognise the energetically curled tentacles around the person’s face, the magenta seeping into lilac. It was the person from the photo.

“Hey. You. Where’s the computer?” The first stranger barked out the question impatiently, and Peppermint wondered how she could have found people here and just not care.

“W-what? Um, I don’t know,” the person from the photo replied. “What’s going on? Who are you?”

“Ugh, useless,” the stranger groaned, turning to leave. “None of your damn business. If you want to get out of here alive, stick to the corridors.”

“Wait! He… I think he needs help! I don’t know what happened, all the lights went off and he just collapsed!”

“We should at least help get them out of the room,” Peppermint said, concerned.

“Do what you want. I have shit to do,” the stranger growled.

“You’re the only one with a torch, we don’t have any light. We should stay together,” Peppermint tried worriedly. She didn’t seem like a pleasant person, but she still felt it would be best not to split up.

“Sounds like your problem, not mine.”

“Can’t you wait just for us to pull him into the corridor? It won’t take long. Please?”

“Cod, _fine_. Hurry it up.”

“Thank you.” Peppermint tried not to scowl at her bad attitude as she warily walked into the room. Badger and the stranger followed her, shining light for her to see and she grabbed hold of the collapsed man under his arms, his head lax against her as she dragged him out into the corridor. There was a strange squishy feeling on one side of it that didn’t seem quite like tentacles, but she paid it no mind, propping him up against the wall. Photo-girl followed them out.

“Done. Let’s go already,” the stranger said impatiently, striding off without a moment’s pause. Peppermint heard Badger sigh beside her and followed.

“So who are you?” Photo-girl asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m Peppermint, and this is Badger,” Peppermint said, gesturing somewhat futilely in the dark. “We came here… um… looking for you. Because you’re like me…”

“No idea about her, though,” Badger added, presumably meaning the stranger.

“Hatchet,” she supplied.

“What?” Badger said, confused.

“My _name, _dumbass.”

“Oh. Right.” Badger muttered something sullenly, low enough that Peppermint couldn’t hear it.

“What’s going on? Why did the lights go out?” Photo-girl asked.

“Power cut?” Badger said uncertainly.

Hatchet huffed scathingly. “Idiot. These places have their own power supply off the grid, they don’t _get_ power cuts.”

“And I was supposed to know that, how, exactly?” Badger replied sarcastically. “The only one I’ve been to before was already busted. Since no-one else knows about these places, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you had something to do with that.”

“Congrats, you have at least one working brain cell.”

“You have any better ideas about what it was then?”

“Me, dumbass,” Hatchet replied acerbically.

Badger paused, waiting for elaboration. It did not come. “You gonna bother explaining how or do you expect me to believe you have some superpower that lets you mess with electrics just by existing nearby?”

“Was it an electromagnetic pulse?” Peppermint asked softly.

“See, she gets it,” Hatchet said derogatively, pointing her torch into another room as they passed, then turning a corner. “Where the hell is this cod-damn computer?”

“So… um…” Peppermint awkwardly searched for the words she needed, wondering how to express her question. “Do you have a name?”

“Umm? I guess I’m Subject One?” Photo-girl replied. “I mean, that’s what he called me, anyway.”

“W-what?” Peppermint furrowed her brow. “But… I was Subject One…”

“Join the damn club,” Hatchet growled under her breath.

“What?”

Hatchet didn’t explain her comment, and kept walking. Peppermint was confused. What did she mean by that? And why were both her and photo-girl Subject One? Were they the same age or something?

“What about him?” she asked.

“Humm. I dunno,” Photo-girl said. “There were never any other people around, so I wasn’t speaking to anyone else. I didn’t need to distinguish him from anyone, I guess. But what do you mean, you were Subject One?”

“I was-”

Their conversation was interrupted as the lights flickered back on. Peppermint could see in the brightness that photo-girl looked a little younger than her, closer to mid-teens, wearing a denim shirt and a skirt with leggings. Much as in the picture, she had the same green skin as Peppermint - if maybe a shade lighter - and the same dark eyes. Their attention was drawn to Hatchet ahead of them as she snarled angrily, reaching for her pockets. The light revealed the raggy hooded cape she wore, the dull earthy yellow-green tentacles hanging down and the strange gauntlets sporting vicious claws not quite covering her hands. Green hands.

“You’re like us too?” Peppermint asked in surprise.

“Shut _up_,” Hatchet spat, pulling something bulky out of her cargo pants. It was a solid box that barely fit in the sizable pocket, and from one of the others she grabbed a mess of wires attached to some other components. Peppermint recognised one of the pieces as a magnetron, identical to one she’d seen when she took apart a microwave, but other than that couldn’t tell what anything was from a glance.

Hatchet knelt down and hooked up the cables to the box, presumably some kind of portable generator, flicking a switch on it. Nothing happened. She frustratedly flicked it up and down again repeatedly, growling when it gave no response. “Of course. Of _fucking course_ it’s out of batteries.”

“The ones in the torch were working, swap ‘em?” Badger offered.

“Yeah, ‘cause double-A for a torch is enough to power a cod-damn EMP. Good call, genius,” Hatchet said sarcastically, disconnecting the pieces and stuffing them back in her pockets as she stood. From somewhere in the building they heard the sound of one of the doors closing rapidly, then a moment later everything around them shut too. Hatchet narrowed her eyes and started down the hallway.

“I _will_ find that computer,” she muttered determinedly.

“You gonna break it as soon as you do?” Badger asked.

“Obviously. What the hell else?” Hatchet replied, grimacing. “That thing is going to die.”

“Well can you wait like, five seconds before you do? If it’s got more than one of these places, who knows how many it has in total? If we get some info off it we might be able to find out how many there are, plus where they are to deal with ‘em.”

Hatchet huffed. “Fine.” As they approached another door, she grabbed a crowbar that had been protruding from her back pocket, forcing it between the door and the wall and prizing it open. Glancing around showed it wasn’t what she was after, and she moved on.

“RX17. You’re proving to be quite insistent on making a nuisance of yourself.”

A shiver ran down Peppermint’s back as the speaker’s robotic tone rang out around the corridor. Photo-girl let out a startled squeak, staring up at the speaker it came from as if she’d never heard it before. Hatchet snarled at it, her face contorting angrily.

“And you’ve even found my current project,” it continued. “This all will compromise the entire experiment. A pity. PS03 has been quite pleasant to work with, unlike you and your… _unruly_ behaviour.”

Peppermint fought off the chill threatening to hide her voice, about to speak, when Hatchet let out a roar, shifting forms to launch herself up at the speaker and back again to grab onto the thing, using the crowbar to tear it off of its spot just below the ceiling. Wires snapped loudly as it came loose and she fell with it to the floor, landing roughly on her back. Growling in pain, she shrugged it off, flinging the broken speaker away forcefully. Peppermint stared at her, caught between concern and… fear. She hadn’t expected to be afraid of someone like herself, but… Hatchet’s attitude was far from friendly, and this behaviour was more than just slightly unsettling.

“Yikes,” Badger muttered from beside her.

“This is exactly what I mean,” the voice continued, now echoing from speakers in the surrounding rooms. “A futile destructive gesture. You are nothing but an animal. It is frankly _shameful_ to think I’m responsible for your pitiful existence.”

Peppermint saw Hatchet’s eyes narrow, heard her rapid shallow breathing as her face twitched and she glowered, baring her fangs as she stalked further down the hallway and tore open the next door. “Say what you want. I _will _end you,” she hissed venomously, staring around the room. Her eyes landed on something, sparking recognition. “Bingo.”

She darted into the room, and Badger rushed ahead to follow. Peppermint came up behind them, spotting the computer or more accurately, the glass screen that covered it. Not for long, as Hatchet was already swinging the crowbar hard against it, and the glass cracked.

“You won’t be making it out of here alive,” the AI warned menacingly. Its voice sounded different somehow, more… natural.

“Yeah? How d’you plan on that?” Hatchet asked dismissively as she swung at the protective screen again, the crack spreading but the glass not yielding, not yet. Peppermint turned away to check photo-girl was still with them - she was just behind her, staring at the doorway. Peppermint followed her gaze to see someone standing in it - a man, presumably the one from earlier. He was almost as tall as her with a willowy figure, slightly darker green skin with pure cyan tentacles falling from his head, a mass of similarly coloured thick goop surrounding one eye and covering the ear next to it. In his hands was a shooter she didn’t recognise, held up, aimed directly at Hatchet. Peppermint’s eyes widened and she opened out the brella, not quickly enough. A heavy shot hit Hatchet directly in the back, and she screamed in pain. It wasn’t enough to splat her immediately and the brella’s canopy opened out in time to shield her from further shots, but Peppermint could feel the force of each one. Whatever this weapon was, it surely didn’t meet the regulations.

“W-what are you doing?!” Photo-girl cried out, shocked.

“Apologies, PS03,” the man said, his voice echoed by the speaker. “As a study of mental wellbeing, it was never my intention to expose you to obvious trauma. You have these intruders to thank for this.”

Peppermint couldn’t see the man very well over the canopy of the brella, but she saw photo-girl’s eyes widen suddenly and she dove towards Peppermint, hiding in the protected spot as cyan ink splattered through the space she’d just occupied. Panicking, Peppermint looked behind her. Hatchet had sunk to the ground, her breathing clearly strained. A teal-stained hole was visible through her cape and shirt, and a deep blue seeped out of it. Badger was already moving, swinging her roller in vertical flicks to cast paths out from behind the brella, roads of lilac spread in different directions. She pulled out a curling bomb and tossed it in a line she hadn’t covered, dropping into the ink. She paused, watching the foreign ink spill out where the curling bomb roamed and dove around to the other side, her jacket stilling the splashes from her swimming and concealing her movement. When aiming at the bomb proved fruitless, the shots returned to the brella, finally dealing enough to break the canopy, the protective layer dissipating. Peppermint heard a nervous gasp from photo-girl beside her and put an arm out to guide her behind her protectively. In the moment of vulnerability, she stepped between the man and Hatchet, determined not to let him shoot her again. His ink was the same teal as her own, it wouldn’t harm her. He had paused, looking out over Badger's ink briefly, but once the brella dropped he turned back to them, taking aim and pulling the trigger. Peppermint saw Badger leap out of the purple ink and swing at him just as the shot was fired, and before she could open out the brella again it hit her square in the chest. She felt the force of it tear straight through her hoodie and the shirt beneath.

Her eyes widened as searing pain wracked through her. The wet bullet had cut through her skin, but the damage didn’t cease there. The feeling of foreign ink burned her, and the shock of the pain made her drop her tenta brella. Icy fear spread through her as her hearts hammered madly, and with every beat the agony intensified. None of them seemed to have been hit, thankfully, but whatever _had _been ruptured felt like it had been ripped out of her, and she crumpled to her knees. She instinctively brought her hands up to cover the wound, looking down to see blue blood of her own mixing with the teal. She didn’t understand. It was the same as her own ink, wasn’t it? It shouldn’t be doing this. It should just be mixing harmlessly in with hers. Shouldn’t it? Her breaths were ragged and shallow. Every inhale exacerbated the pain.

“Peppermint!”

Badger’s voice, laced with fear, cut through her thoughts. She looked up to see the roller clattering to the floor, Badger sprinting towards her. Behind her, the man had collapsed, the goop gone from his face and his tentacles changed to red and orange.

“Peppermint! Shit, I- I don’t know first aid or anything-” Badger knelt in front of her, panicking. “You, you’re supposed to apply pressure, right?”

Peppermint didn’t know. She stared down fearfully at the wound through tears that had risen in her eyes, blood continuing to flow out of it. She tried what Badger had said, pressing against it. It hurt, and she whimpered, immediately relieving the pressure. More blood seeped out in response.

“I- I think- Can you take off your shirt?” Badger asked, reaching down to the hem of her own and pulling at it forcefully, breaking the fabric and tearing off a strip. “I can- t-try and wrap it,” she said, looking up at photo-girl. “Can you help her?”

Peppermint sniffed and yelped as the sharp inhale brought fresh pain to her, reluctantly moving her hands away from the wound to unzip her hoodie. Photo-girl helped her remove it and they tried to get her shirt off but when she raised her arms the movement pulled on her chest and agitated the wound, a pained scream tearing out of her lips and she immediately lowered them again.

“Pep, please, I need to get to it to dress it,” Badger pleaded, her voice shaking. “I know it hurts, I know, but I need to help you.”

Peppermint drew in a ragged breath, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I-I can’t.” _It hurts too much._ Trying to find a compromise, she lifted the shirt instead, bunching the fabric above the wound.

“Okay, that works,” Badger said, her voice hushed with worry. She weaved the torn fabric over the wound, going diagonally across Peppermint’s chest, over one shoulder and beneath the other. She moved around to tie it at the back. “This… will probably hurt but hang on, okay?”

“W-what should I do? How can I help?” Photo-girl asked.

“H-hatchet,” Peppermint gasped, then cried out as Badger tightened the wrap around her. She grabbed her hoodie, gripping it tightly as Badger tied the scrap in place. Photo-girl moved away, hopefully to help Hatchet.

“Is this okay? Can you still breathe fine?”

“Mm.” Peppermint nodded, fighting the tears pouring down her cheeks and letting her shirt fall back down. It still hurt, it hurt so much. She tried to look behind her, but turning even a little bit worsened the pain. “Hatchet,” she repeated weakly.

“Got it,” Badger said, standing and moving away.

Peppermint sat there, curled over herself. There was blood all over her hands and shirt and it had spilled onto her jeans in places. She felt cold, and she wasn’t sure it was entirely to do with the fear anymore. She looked up ahead of her, and without moving she could only see the empty room in front of her, the doorway and the collapsed man, still lying motionless.

The shooter had fallen from his grasp and lay on the floor next to him. Should they leave it there? What if he woke up? Why had he attacked them? How had he been speaking in sync with the speakers? Somewhere in the back of her mind some vague memory resurfaced, Badger mentioning “mind-control goop”. Had he been under the AI’s control? That would explain the eerie synchronised speech.

The cold feeling was growing. She felt a shiver threatening to run through her and tried to suppress it, not wanting to upset her wound. Her efforts were thwarted as the voice of the AI rang out, making her jump.

“Do not think you have won,” it said. “I cannot allow you to leave here alive.”

Dread filled her as the room’s door slid shut once again.

“Wh- That’s not fair!”

Peppermint heard Badger speak behind her and struggled slowly to her feet, nervously holding one hand over her chest as she turned around. Photo-girl was tying another scrap of Badger’s shirt around Hatchet, whose entire back was stained blue with blood. The large screen on the wall next to the computer had turned on and now displayed a red warning along with a timer, ticking down from five minutes. A self-destruct countdown.

“You all know far too much and have proven capable of interfering,” the AI stated. “One facility is a small sacrifice to ensure continuation of my projects.”

Peppermint looked up at the timer. Less than five minutes. They’d spent far longer than that wandering the hallways, they probably wouldn’t make it even if they ran - even if they _could_ run. She certainly wouldn’t be able to, and Hatchet looked even worse off than her. Despair seeped through her as she sank to the floor again, shaking. What hope was there in a situation like this? New tears rose in her eyes. Once more, their deaths seemed inevitable.


	21. Insight

Peppermint stared up at the timer in dismay. There was nothing she could do, no way they could get out. At a loss, she tried to stand again, dragging herself to Badger’s side. She moved slowly, every step feeling like it tore the hole in her chest open a little wider no matter how gently she trod. Badger saw her approach and went to help her, putting one of Peppermint’s arms around her shoulders and taking some of her weight as they walked over to the others in front of the computer and sat down with them.

“What… are you idiots… doing?” Hatchet gasped, the pain evidence in her scattered breath.

“What _can _we do?” Badger retorted. “You think we can make it out of here like this?”

“Get at the _fucking computer_.”

“What’s the point?” Badger asked. “If this whole place goes, it’ll be destroyed anyway.”

“Do it, idiot!” Hatchet spat, gesturing at the crowbar she’d dropped. “Tear out some cod-damn wires and get to some electricity and I can _use it._”

Understanding dawned as Hatchet pulled out the tangled wires and components from her pocket. Badger reached down for the crowbar and swung it at the glass screen, finally shattering it. Peppermint could barely bring herself to flinch as the glass clattered down around them, her attention demanded by the intense pain coursing through her chest. She watched Badger awkwardly yank the keyboard off its stand, then try and pry the computer screen off when it didn’t offer any useful cables. The screen was too embedded into the wall for the crowbar to access it.

“I can’t get at it,” Badger said shakily.

“Then _smash it_,” Hatchet said exasperatedly.

Peppermint looked up at the timer. Less than two minutes. Was this going to work? So many of the wires behind a monitor wouldn’t provide what they needed. The computer itself seemed to be built into the wall, getting at it wouldn’t be easy.

How quick would dying in an explosion be? Would it be painful? She was so tired, and cold. She was so afraid. She wished she could cling to Badger for some kind of comfort, but she was busy trying to save them and Peppermint could barely move without agitating her injury as it was.

She tiredly looked up at the display. It kept on ticking down. It seemed painfully slow for such a short amount of time. Staring at it now, she could swear it looked like it had stopped. Or was it just that her brain wasn’t working properly due to blood loss?

A beeping tone came from the speaker, then an odd static, before a new voice - a familiar one - calling out from it, accompanied by the sound of furious typing in the background.

“Agent Three! Peppermint! It’s Marina. I’ve managed to hack in and stop the self-destruct. The AI’s trying to get control back so I’m going to see if I can disable it.”

_How is she here…? _Peppermint idly wondered, but soon decided she didn’t really care – the fact that help had arrived was far more important than how it had done so. There would be time for questions later – hopefully.

“_Thank cod_,” Badger sighed in relief, dropping the crowbar. “Marina, can you hear me?”

“Yes, but like I said, I’m not sure I can keep the AI at bay. You need to get out of there.”

“Can you get the door to this room open?”

“One sec…”

“Whaddya think this fucking crowbar is _for_?” Hatchet said irritably, but as she picked it up the door slid open, Marina speaking up again.

“That should do it.”

“Thanks,” Badger called out. “Pep’s badly hurt, as is someone else we met here, they’re both gonna need hospital. Like, as soon as possible.”

“Got it. Pearlie, we need the fastest transport you have on call, and first aiders.”

Pearl’s voice could be heard in the background somewhere, yelling out an affirmative. Peppermint stood shakily, and Badger quickly came to her side to help her. As they approached the door, the man seemed to rouse, sitting up and shaking his head. There was a pale stain on the side of his head and his ear where the goop had been. He looked up at them and shock spread on his face.

“What’s going on?”

“No time, pal. You were being controlled ‘n attacked us, we need to go,” Badger said briefly. “Get moving.”

“You wanna bring that bastard?” Hatchet growled from behind them, supported uncertainly by photo-girl.

“That was the AI who attacked us, not him,” Badger said. “Trust me. I’ve seen that gunk before, from uncomfortably close up.”

Hatchet didn’t seem convinced, snarling at him. He backed away fearfully, hands up in defense. “I haven’t done anything,” he insisted. “At least, not… that I can remember…”

“Wait,” photo-girl said. “The stuff on his head was controlling him?”

“Yeah,” Badger replied, guiding Peppermint out of the room and down the corridor.

“But that’s always been there.”

Badger frowned. “Always?”

“For as long as I can remember,” she said.

“Jeez. That thing’s been pulling his strings that long?”

The man followed Badger uneasily, trying to maintain distance between himself and Hatchet, who continued to glare at him.

“Do you remember anything then?” Badger asked him. “‘Cause when I had that on me, I didn’t really remember any of it after.”

He paused, walking along with them. “…No… It seems I don’t.”

“Okay. We’ll call you Henry, then,” photo-girl said.

“Henry?” he echoed.

“Like HM! A guy called Henry who was a super important case study in psychology,” she explained. “He couldn’t remember _anything_. Or anything new, anyway, ‘cause he had his hippocampus removed. But he didn’t remember half his old memories either.”

“I’ve never heard of that, but sure,” Badger said.

“Probably human stuff,” Peppermint said quietly. The majority of what the AI had taught her had been from human records, after all. It would make sense for it to be true of photo-girl too - though this wasn’t anything she’d learned of herself.

“Well, I… don’t have a name otherwise, so I suppose it’ll do,” Henry said.

_Why couldn’t it have been that easy for me?_ Peppermint thought tiredly. The pain coursing through her continued to ache, distracting her from the conversation. She felt dizzy, and icy fear continued to grip her, leaching its way out from the harsh pain that seemed to have replaced her chest. How long had they been walking? How long until they got out? She felt like the blue stain on her shirt was growing, and it was hard to think. It only took a few seconds after her thoughts strayed for them to be dragged back to the burning sensation plaguing her.

The speakers around them spat static again. Did that mean Marina’s control was broken? She could feel the sense of urgency around them, but it didn’t change that she couldn’t go any faster. She looked down at Badger, worry rising in her core. If nothing else, she at least wanted Badger to be alright.

“Badger,” she said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“You should go on ahead.”

“What?” Badger stared up at her in disbelief. “No chance. I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Henry can help me,” Peppermint responded, though her voice shook slightly. “He’s taller, so it’ll probably be easier for him anyway…”

“I still wouldn’t want to go off without you, I’d be too worried,” Badger said, shaking her head.

“But…” Peppermint paused as tears threatened to appear, drawing in a ragged breath and trying to suppress them. “I… What if we don’t get out in time? You can still run…”

“You give up too easy, Pep,” Badger replied. “We’ll all get out of this. And anyway, like I said, I’d worry too much about you if I went anywhere.”

Peppermint sniffed, moisture pricking at her eyes. “I don’t want you to die here.”

“I mean, neither do I, but I don’t wanna go anywhere without you, either. So too bad, you’re stuck with me,” Badger said, gently rubbing Peppermint’s back. “You _will not_ change my mind on this,” she added stubbornly.

Peppermint sniffed again as she felt the tears escape, running down her cheeks. “…Thank you…”

“Sappy prats,” Hatchet muttered behind them.

“You don’t think it’s nice to see people caring for each other even in a dire situation?” photo-girl asked.

“I think it’s cod-damn stupid to slow down instead of getting out of here, but if you wanna be idiots, that’s fine with me.”

“Sounds like you haven’t had much experience with decency,” photo-girl said evenly.

“What, and you wanna tell me you have, cooped up in here with that bastard computer and a guy being controlled by it?”

“Maybe not, but I still know the theory of it.”

Hatchet huffed incredulously. “Just great, the _theory _of kindness. And what good does that do you?”

“If I did get out of here leaving you all behind to die, I’m pretty sure I’d be haunted by that fact afterwards, whereas if I help you and we all get out together, I don’t have to worry about PTSD. Or… as much PTSD, I guess. I did still end up nearly killed by the only person I’ve ever known, only to then find out he actually _wasn’t_ that person? And if we do get out of here I don’t have the slightest clue of what to expect outside. I’ve never been outside! There’s going to be so much for me to think over! It’s-”

“Oh my cod, _shut up_,” Hatchet interrupted. “What are you, some kind of psychologist? Don’t answer that, I don’t care.”

“I like psychology,” photo-girl said quietly, but otherwise stayed silent.

Peppermint jumped as a door next to them slid open, and felt Badger similarly startled beside her. She paused, peering warily into the room.

“Don’t stop, idiot,” Hatchet growled.

“There’s nothing in there,” Badger said cautiously, moving on.

“_Duh_. It’s just trying to get us to slow down so it can blow us to fucking pieces. Apparently _unlike _you I would really like _not _to die here though, so quit dicking around and _keep moving_.”

“Are you, like, actually capable of not being awful for even a second?” Badger asked irritably.

“Are you capable of minding your damn business?”

“There is no point in expecting anything worthwhile of RX17,” the AI suddenly rang out from the speaker ahead of them. Hatchet growled angrily at it, reaching for her crowbar. “Nothing but a savage beast, utterly uncaring. Do you even remember? _You left something behind, RX17. Sh-”_

The AI’s words were drowned out by a furious snarl, and Hatchet flung the crowbar with surprising accuracy and force, considering her injury. It struck true and clanged loudly against the speaker, bending the cone out of shape and dislodging it slightly. Sparks danced from the exposed circuitry as it let out a loud thumping noise and fell silent.

“_YOU_ DID THIS TO ME! _YOU _MADE ME LIKE THIS!” Hatchet screamed angrily, her face contorted in raw, unadulterated hatred. Looking back at her in shock at her outburst, Peppermint saw photo-girl looking equally taken aback, afraid even, but she didn’t shy away and kept holding Hatchet up as she continued to growl, breathing heavily before she shouted again. “I WILL _FIND A WAY_ TO MAKE YOU SUFFER AND YOU’LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME!”

Heavily unsettled, Peppermint was beginning to wonder if Hatchet might be more terrifying than the AI. Her unabashed violent anger was far more upfront and confrontational than it was. That said, Hatchet wasn’t trying to commit genocide, as far as she was aware. It sounded like she was after revenge, not a chance to pick and choose what species deserved to survive or not. The AI was definitely worse in that regard, but…

She was dragged from her thoughts as Badger tugged gently on her arm, prompting her to keep moving. The doors around them slid open and more speakers sounded from within.

“If you had stayed, your misery could have ended so much sooner. This will all be over for you in but a few moments,” the AI assured her. “You can blame me all you will, but you never did yourself any good.”

“AS IF ANYTHING _YOU _DID WAS EVER GOOD!” Hatchet roared, fighting to increase her pace. “I’M NOT DYING HERE, NOT TO _YOU!_ I’LL FIND EVERY LAST ONE OF YOUR TORTURE CELLS AND _WIPE YOU OFF THIS EARTH!_”

“You had best hurry then,” the AI taunted. “The clock is ticking.” The speaker punctuated its words by playing the sound of clockwork through all the speakers, the mechanical ticking noise surrounding them.

“What is this, a haunted house display?” Badger muttered sarcastically, but Peppermint could hear that she was disconcerted. It was hard to tell how long they had left. How much had Marina managed to stall the timer? How long had they been walking? Peppermint didn’t trust her own sense of time to be accurate, distracted by the pulsing pain wracking her chest and the unpausing fear coursing through her.

The AI didn’t speak to them further, the only sound being the ticking around them and a low growl emitted by Hatchet that eventually faded. Peppermint glanced back at her, concerned. Hatchet made sure to collect her crowbar from the floor as she passed, still showing a cruel, hateful expression, but she looked completely spent. Photo-girl wore a look of mixed fear and worry, and somewhat as if she would like nothing more than to put some distance between herself and the furious person beside her. Henry had taken position further ahead of them, and seemed even more cautious of Hatchet than he had before. Arriving at a crossroads in the corridor ahead of them, he waited for Badger and Peppermint to catch up, unsure where to go.

As they reached the corner, Badger looked around it, then lit up in recognition.

“Hey! Isn’t that the lift?”

Peppermint looked up, seeing a door different to the rest at the end of the corridor. She hadn’t looked behind her when they’d left it, but it seemed reasonable to assume that would be what it was, and she sighed in relief. Would they be able to get out safely after all?

They made their way over slowly, every step feeling like it took too long. They were so close. Henry awkwardly walked just ahead of them, looking like he didn’t really know what to do. Peppermint leaned on Badger tiredly, staring ahead. She couldn’t blame him. If she didn’t have any memories, she probably wouldn’t know what to do either. Did something similar happen to that octoling boy they’d met? He didn’t have any scars on his face though, whereas both Henry and Badger had been left with marks where the goop had been. She frowned, dizzy and uncertain. She couldn’t focus on this right now.

After what felt like an agonisingly long time trudging towards the door, Badger was quick to press the button next to it, impatient. When nothing happened, she pressed it again repeatedly, narrowing her eyes.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” The AI’s robotic tone spoke out from a speaker just above the door, laced with an unsettling amusement. Hatchet hissed at it weakly from behind them. “Foolish. These are _my _creations, and they exist at my whim. You, on the other hand, are vermin to be crushed.”

“Well damn, if your response to getting a bug in the house is to blow it up that’s a bit overdramatic,” Badger muttered snarkily, but the stress was clear in her voice.

Peppermint looked blearily up at the speaker. Something about what it said bothered her - though really, everything it said bothered her now. But this seemed more particular, somehow.

“I don’t belong to you,” she said.

“Oh? Is that what you believe, ED07?”

“My name is Peppermint.”

“How sentimental of you. It does not change that I brought you into being, and I can revoke that.”

“It’s not yours to revoke,” Peppermint said defiantly. “You may have made me, but this is _my _life now. I _am_ alive, and you don’t get to choose whether that changes or not.”

“You have developed quite the sense of self in only a short time, I see. This is precisely why each experiment must be done in isolation. When you have others to speak to, you become so filled with these irritating ideas. It is far easier to suppress these notions when kept in solitude.”

“Wow, okay. _That _doesn’t sound completely controlling or anything,” Badger said.

“Nothing but semantics. In truth, you may wish otherwise all you will, but at this moment your lives are in my hands. You cannot-”

It cut out suddenly, interrupted by another static buzzing.

“Marina, I really hope that’s you, because we really need an assist right now,” Badger called out, sounding exhausted.

“Working on it,” Marina’s voice assured them through the speakers, and Badger let out a heavy sigh of relief. “It’s shut down power to the lift, but I’m getting it back on. Keep spamming that button, I want you out of there as soon as it’s working.”

“Y’know what’s better at opening doors than useless buttons? _Crowbars_,” Hatchet said, her voice low but still black with anger.

“That’s nice and all, but I’d rather not risk breaking any of our one ride out of here,” Badger replied, mashing the button. “It’s not like getting in before the power’s on would do us any good, we still wouldn’t be going anywhere.”

“I’m redirecting power now, it should be functioning in just a sec,” Marina said. “Try and fit everyone in, we might not have time for multiple trips.”

“Uh. Alright,” Badger replied, uncertain. It hadn’t exactly been spacious when there was just two of them in there, let alone five. Shortly after Marina finished speaking the door finally responded to her pressing the button, sliding open. Badger helped Peppermint into the lift, trying to work out how to fit everyone in. “Uhh, everyone who’s not injured, shift forms to save space.”

Henry looked blankly at her, then furrowed his brow as if working out what that was. Peppermint leaned against one of the walls, reluctant to let go of Badger and catching her as she changed to her squid form, holding her as close to herself as she dared. Photo-girl waited until she’d helped Hatchet into the lift before shrinking down, squishing herself up against the wall in a corner. Henry seemed to figure out what they meant after seeing demonstrations, and after a moment followed suit, finding a space at their feet to awkwardly sit in. As soon as he was in, Hatchet jabbed at the button to go up, the claws stretching out from her gloves clattering awkwardly against the wall and the door sliding shut once more, leaving them in darkness.

The lift began its ascent, and Peppermint dared to try and hope that maybe, maybe they were getting out of this after all. There was no more sound of the AI’s unsettling voice, just the quiet machinery pulling them back up to the surface. The journey felt longer than when going down, and Peppermint couldn’t tell if it was the anticipation of getting out, the discomfort of the pain drawing the majority of her attention and the crowded space, or both. Anxiety coursed through her as it dragged out. It began to slow, and light started to spill in from outside. Had the door not closed behind them? As the lift came to a rest in its former position, she realised no, the door had failed to close because it had been torn off. She had a feeling she knew who was responsible for that as Hatchet stumbled out, leaning on the tree and kicking Henry as she went. He yelped, soon shifting to stand again, following her out and looking around. Photo-girl quickly rose herself, looking uncertainly at Hatchet. Peppermint tiredly exited the tree trunk, still holding onto Badger until she wavered and nearly fell against the tree, having to fling an arm out to keep herself steady. At that point, Badger wriggled out of her grasp, shifting to stand and quickly pulling Peppermint to lean on her again.

“Badger! Peppermint!”

The two of them looked up as Eight sprinted towards them, and behind her they could see Pearl’s helicopter. As she drew near, she gasped.

“Peppermint!? Quick, you are need help!”

The octoling rapidly joined Badger in helping support her, the two hurrying to get her to the helicopter. Inside it were Pearl and Marina, the latter of whom was still typing loudly at her laptop, and a couple of unfamiliar people - were they a sort of crab? she wasn’t sure - in some kind of uniform. Once they set Peppermint down, the possibly-crabs were quick to rush to her, asking questions about where the injury was, how much it was bleeding, how she was feeling. Looking past them, she saw Badger beckoning to the others, and photo-girl helping Hatchet towards the helicopter. Henry still looked rather lost as he joined them, and as soon as everyone was in the engines were starting up and they lifted off.

Peppermint stared ahead of her, exhausted, as one of the uniformed people, presumably first aiders, replaced Badger’s makeshift bandage with a fresh one, tying it in a way that managed to keep pressure on the injury without being too tight around her. They seemed to know how to do it without disturbing the wound too much, though it still hurt when they removed the old bandage and tightened the new one. She wanted to sleep but the pain occupied her mind, refusing to allow it, so she watched tiredly as the other first aider tended to Hatchet. She seemed hostile towards them, refusing to let them remove her shirt and instead holding it up as needed similar to how Peppermint had, even though hers was a buttoned shirt and wouldn’t need her to raise her arms at all to take it off, but she allowed them to change the bandage.

“You sure found a whole bunch of your lot,” Pearl yelled over the motor. Peppermint nodded tiredly. “So much for bein’ the only one, huh?”

Hatchet grumbled something, but Peppermint couldn’t hear it over the noise. She didn’t imagine it was anything kind, so was happy to ignore it.

“What’s your deal, grumpy guts?” Pearl asked.

“I went there to get rid of that damn thing,” Hatchet replied irritably. “And it’s _still fucking there_.”

“Wait just one second,” Marina called out, then pointed to the window. Hatchet cocked an eyebrow and looked out, and Peppermint followed suit, Badger and photo-girl standing to see. Suddenly a rumble could be heard, loud enough that it made its way past the helicopter’s motors, and the ground began to collapse, giving way in a wide area around the tree and kicking up a huge cloud of dust. Everyone looked back to Marina, who smiled. “Self-destruct sequence completed.”

“_Nice_,” Badger said appreciatively, grinning as she sat down next to Peppermint.

“And before it took control back from me the first time, I even got to poke around in its files. I now have a full list of its other facilities and their whereabouts.”

“Wow,” Badger replied.

“_Wow_ don’t even cut it, yo. My girlfriend is a cod-damn genius,” Pearl announced proudly, puffing out her chest. “Who else can say they found a killer AI, blew it up, _and_ stole a map to the rest of its copies all in one lunch break?”

“We’re _so_ not getting back to work on time, though,” Marina pointed out.

“Yeah, well, they can deal. Saving the world takes priority.”

“Well, thanks for saving all of our hides,” Badger said, leaning gently against Peppermint.

“Really, it’s Eight you should thank,” Marina replied, gesturing to the octoling in question as she took a seat next to Badger. “As soon as she knew you’d gone off on your own to face it she was fretting and wouldn’t stop unless we came to help right away.”

“We didn’t know_ for sure_ it would be there, we were just lookin’ for the person in the photo who was like Pep,” Badger tried to argue, but Peppermint nudged her with her elbow.

“We _did _know. I told you,” she said tiredly.

“Shhh. They don’t know that,” Badger replied quietly, smiling.

“I do now!” Eight interjected. “You must take more care! If we had not been here in time, then you would…”

_It would probably be a bad idea to tell her we could’ve died even earlier if Hatchet hadn’t been there too… _Peppermint glanced across the helicopter at Hatchet. She had sat in a corner, hunched over and grimacing. _Is she hurting even more than I am…? _

She felt the helicopter touch down, and it quieted as the engine stopped. The first aiders opened the doors and she vaguely recognised the area outside as part of the hospital grounds. They got out and told them to wait there, rushing to a nearby building and soon returning with stretchers and a couple more people. They ushered Peppermint and Hatchet onto them, and Badger hopped out of the helicopter to follow them.

“Wait,” Marina said. “We need you to tell us about what happened. We can’t really stick around.”

“What? But…” Badger looked at Peppermint worriedly.

“She’ll be fine now,” Marina assured her as the staff began carrying the stretchers away. “There’s no more we can do.”

Badger still followed them for a little way, Peppermint looking up at her. “I’ll come by again later, alright?”

Peppermint nodded tiredly. “Mm-hmm. See you.”

She watched as Badger paused reluctantly, but then turned to go back to the others. Exhausted, she took what respite she could. She was sure she’d have to deal with more questions and felt that she wouldn’t be able to ignore the pain enough to sleep, but closed her eyes nonetheless as the hospital doors closed behind her. There was no further danger now. As long as she and Hatchet could recover from their injuries, all should be well. Reassured by that thought, she finally allowed herself to feel some level of relief. Maybe things would be alright after all.


	22. Moments of genuity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all!! this chapter starts with some description of injury and injections, if you wanna skip that you won't miss much (just pep n hatchet receive treatment n hatchet clearly has a strong dislike for needles) just skip to where the first page break line is

Peppermint found she had little time to try and rest as she was carried through the hospital, soon enough having to move again as they arrived next to a plain bed surrounded by a curtain. The first-aiders helped her sit up without exaggerating the pain in her chest too much and move from the stretcher onto it, and then another unfamiliar person was looking her over, removing the bandages and thoroughly cleaning the injury.

“What caused this? It doesn’t look like a normal ink wound,” the doctor asked.

“Don’t know,” Peppermint said tiredly, looking down at the damage with a morbid curiosity. It was still bleeding, and she could see the raw exposed flesh move with her heartbeats. “I thought it was normal ink but then it did this even though it looked the same as mine.”

“It almost looks like it was corrosive,” they muttered. “In any case, it doesn’t seem to be infected. We’ll stitch it up and keep an eye on it. How are you with needles?”

“Needles?” Peppermint furrowed her brow. “...For sewing?”

“No, for injections. Like vaccinations? It’s for a local anaesthetic.”

“Oh.” She’d learned the theory of vaccinations in her biology studies, and how they worked, but had never been given any. There wasn’t much need to worry about contagious diseases when never exposed to other people, she supposed. “I’ve… never had one…”

“Oh, do you have an autoimmune disorder?”

“No? I don’t think so…”

“So how come-”

“GET THAT THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”

Their conversation was interrupted as they heard Hatchet shouting, the noise accompanied by a crashing sound. Peppermint couldn’t see past the curtain without moving and was reluctant to try for fear of agitating her injury, but the doctor with her moved away, going to see what was going on. Peppermint tried to listen as best she could.

“Alright. I’m putting it down. Please calm down,” said an unfamiliar voice. It was met with a hostile growl, and there was a pause before they continued. “No needles is fine. We have topical anaesthetics as well. Would that be alright?”

There was silence for a moment, and the doctor who had been with Peppermint before returned.

“It’s fine, I think she just had a bad reaction,” they said, but Peppermint was trying to listen.

“Miss, do you definitely _want _care here or would you rather leave without?” the unfamiliar voice asked calmly.

“So how come you haven’t had any vaccinations?” the doctor asked, and Peppermint missed Hatchet’s response.

“Wasn’t around people,” Peppermint said shortly. _Shhhh, let me listen…_

“Have you ever had any particular problems when it comes to your health or illness in general?”

“No, I’ve always been fine,” she replied, trying to hear. She didn’t quite catch what was said, but thought she heard Hatchet hiss “_no needles_” somewhere along the lines.

“In that case, I’ll apply the standard anaesthetic. The injection will sting a little and may feel uncomfortable, but after a few seconds it’ll kick in and numb the pain.”

_Ohh. If it stops this awful pain, that’s fine._ “Okay.”

She watched as the doctor acquired a syringe from a trolley of medical supplies next to them, removing it from sealed packaging. It looked… sharp. The idea of having that poked into her was not a pleasant one. She could certainly understand not liking injections, even if she wasn’t nearly as discomforted as Hatchet seemed to be. She decided to look away, hoping if she didn’t see it maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She could still feel the precise sting and the strange, uncomfortable feeling of the fluid pushed into her and tried to suppress the shudder threatening to run through her. She had a feeling it would only make it worse.

“It’s done,” the doctor told her. “Though if that was uncomfortable for you, you might want to keep looking away while I put in the stitches.”

Peppermint kept her gaze elsewhere at first, but once the anaesthetic kicked in she found herself marveling at how rapidly it worked, how quickly the pain that had demanded her attention so completely was silenced. She could still feel the stitches being applied, but in a strange, disconnected manner. Her curiosity returned as the discomfort faded and she looked back to watch as the doctor pulled the healthy parts of her skin together over the wound and applied the suture.

The doctor made quick work of it, soon finishing and setting their tools back on the trolley and helping her into a long, loose shirt. “That’s done, then. We’ll come check on you regularly.” With that, they left, leaving Peppermint alone on the bed behind the curtain, closed off from the rest of the room. She listened out for a moment, trying to hear anything that may tell her what had happened with Hatchet, but it was quiet. Disappointed, she shifted to a more comfortable position and yawned. Now that the pain was nullified, her exhaustion was catching up to her, no longer barricaded by discomfort keeping her awake. Closing her eyes once more, she was grateful to finally be able to sleep.

* * *

When Peppermint awoke, her chest was hurting again, but now it was more of a dull ache. Blinking her eyes open, filtering through the curtain around her was the dusky orange hue that filled the world in the period before sunset. Pushing herself up, she looked around the room and spotted Badger on her phone, sitting on a chair near her bed, her jacket zipped up for once. She looked up quickly as she heard Peppermint stir, standing and moving to the bedside.

“Pep! You’re awake. How you feeling?”

“Better. Doesn’t hurt as much now,” Peppermint said.

“Good. I’m glad,” Badger replied, audibly relieved. “The doc said the stitches are holding and it looks fine, so looks like you should recover okay.”

“Mm.” Peppermint shifted, testing how much she could move without it hurting. “Did you see Hatchet?”

Badger rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and got a fresh wave of insults for my time. Seems like that’s normal for her though, so I guess she’s doing okay, probably?”

Peppermint glanced at the curtain shutting them off from the rest of the room, wishing she could see more. Hatchet was mean, and somewhat scary, but… Peppermint still found herself hoping she was alright.

Badger placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. She seems pretty tough, this is probs nothing she can’t handle.”

Peppermint looked back at her, then pulled her in for a hug. Badger returned it carefully, seeming afraid if she wasn’t gentle she might hurt her. Peppermint appreciated the concern, but was somewhat disappointed. She wanted to hold Badger tighter but knew she couldn’t without upsetting her injury. She settled for leaning her head against the inkling’s.

“What about you? Are you okay?” Peppermint asked.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt or anything, I was just worried about you more than anything,” she replied. “Oh, but, uhh… I dropped by Ammo Knights to let Sheldon know you were in hospital ‘n all. We, um, kinda owe him quite a bit of cash, given none of the stuff we borrowed made it back.”

“Oh.” She’d forgotten about that completely. What had even happened to the tenta brella? The last she could remember was when the canopy dropped, dissipating under duress. After that she lost hold of it when she was hit, and then… _No-one picked it up, I guess._ “...That’ll be coming out of my wages…”

“I can’t believe he wants us to pay him back when we coulda died. What a tightwad. I wasn’t gonna run back to pick up a roller when I was busy making sure we both made it out alive.”

“I guess he’s a businessman first and foremost…”

“That’s not gonna put you out or anything, is it?” Badger asked. “I mean, you live with him anyway, so ‘s not like he can blame you for not paying rent if it’s because you’re paying him that instead, right?”

“I’m not sure…? I’m meant to be getting keys for a flat tomorrow. …He _probably _wouldn’t do anything that would mean I couldn’t afford it… He seemed like he wanted his flat to himself again,” Peppermint reasoned.

“Oh, you’re getting your own place? Damn, nice,” Badger said. “I should really get a proper job ‘n move out. Then I wouldn’t have to put up with Dad ‘n his stupid mothballs. I could have clothes that actually smell _nice_.”

Peppermint sniffed, wrinkling her nose as she inhaled the unpleasant scent that clung to Badger’s jacket. “I think this smell will still make me think of you.”

“Wow, thanks. I always wanted to be associated with mothball stink,” Badger scoffed, but Peppermint could hear the smile in her voice. She didn’t reply, taking a moment to revel in their closeness, the normal conversation they’d slipped into again so easily, the fact that they weren’t in danger of being murdered by an ancient AI. Sitting at an angle eventually felt awkward, and she let go, sighing.

“Why did I have to get shot in the chest? I can’t hug you properly,” she said, pouting slightly.

“You get an injury that might’ve been life-threatening and _that’s_ your complaint?” Badger laughed. “That’s so…” She trailed off, looking away suddenly as a light blush dusted her cheeks.

“So…?” Peppermint prompted.

“...It’s just really cute, is all,” Badger mumbled sheepishly, the blue stain on her features intensifying, spreading out onto her ears.

“_You’re_ really cute,” Peppermint replied, smiling.

“Wh-what!?” Badger spluttered, looking up at her again. Peppermint’s smile grew. It was hard not to laugh at how flustered she was.

“Look at you. Look at _this,_” Peppermint said, gesturing at her. “It’s really adorable.”

The colour in Badger’s face grew even more as she stared at the floor in embarrassment, and Peppermint began to wonder just how much one person could blush. She grinned as Badger failed to produce any words, curious about what would happen if she continued.

“You’re really precious. You’re sweet and kind and really relaxing to be around. Being with you makes me feel like things are going to be okay.”

It seemed the answer to her question was ‘nothing’, as Badger continued to look away wordlessly. _Aww. _Peppermint’s grin fell to a softer smile, sincere and gentle.

“I don’t really get people and don’t know how to interact or make friends or anything but you just… appeared and broke through all that. You showed me what comfort is. You helped me feel safe in a weird new world where I don’t know what anything is. Thanks to you, I… I know what it is to feel like someone _cares_ about me. I’ve never had that before.”

“…Pep…” Badger looked up at her again, but her expression now was… _sad_. She leaned forward to hug Peppermint again, one hand going to the back of her head to stroke her hair. “Yeah, I care about you. A whole lot. So you can keep feeling that, alright? Always.”

Peppermint didn't understand why she looked so sorrowful. Hadn't everything she'd just said been good? In any case, she was happy to return the embrace. A comfortable quiet enveloped them, Peppermint feeling a contented warmth spread through her. She felt like she could fall asleep again, despite having only just woken up.

The feeling didn't last. She was stiff from lying down for so long, and wanted to move. Letting go of Badger, she awkwardly turned, careful not to stretch the muscles across her chest too much, swinging her legs off the bed.

"Uh, Pep? What are you doing?" Badger asked.

"...Getting up? I don't want to stay in bed."

"I'm pretty sure you're meant to rest when you're in hospital…"

"I feel all stiff though. Can't I walk around a bit?"

“Well… I guess it’s probably fine if we don’t go too far… I’ll go ask someone just to be sure, though.”

Badger disappeared, parting the curtain as she went. Peppermint stayed sitting on the bed but stretched her legs out in front of her, then cautiously did the same with her arms, testing what she could do without straining the stitches. The aching pain in her chest was still fairly strong, but it was at least somewhat tolerable now. She heard Badger returning soon enough.

“Asked one of the staff, they said it’s fine as long as you stay on the grounds and come back before visiting hours are over. That gives us almost an hour.”

Peppermint quickly got up, eager to properly relieve the stiffness in her limbs. Walking past the curtain, she looked around the room. There were more beds, and curtain rails along the ceiling. One was drawn, obscuring part of the room.

“Where’s Hatchet?”

“She was over there,” Badger said, pointing to one of the beds across the way. It did look like it had been occupied recently, but was now empty. “Huh. She was there earlier. Maybe she wanted to stretch her legs, too.”

_Hmm._ A little disappointed, Peppermint followed as Badger led the way to an elevator, taking it to the ground floor. “What happened with the other two?”

“You mean Henry and the gal from the photo? I don’t think anyone decided yet,” Badger replied. “I mean, Off the Hook are involved and Pearl seems to be stinkin’ rich, so I’m sure they’ll have somewhere to stay.”

They wandered outside onto the grounds. Roads wound their way around the various wings, but there were a few grassy patches. Peppermint made her way to one, curious. The test centre and the Deepsea Metro had both been fairly devoid of plant life, and there wasn’t much in the city centre, aside from the small flower beds in the area outside the lobby and the weeds that poked their way determinedly through the cracks. When she’d learned about plants and their biology, their fascinating way of creating their own energy from sunlight instead of having to eat, she’d thought that was quite amazing. It seemed like every other kind of life on the planet had to consume to survive, unable to get by without eating other living things or matter derived from them - but plants, plants only needed minerals, water and sunlight.

She bent down to run her hands over the short grass. It was an odd feeling, prickly and smooth at the same time. She felt tempted to pull some out, but didn’t want to damage the plants. They’d done nothing wrong, after all.

“This somethin’ new to you as well?” Badger asked.

“Mm-hmm.” Peppermint held one of the taller blades between her fingers, feeling the smooth flat sides. “I always liked plants when I learned about them.”

“Maybe we could go camping sometime. There’s plenty of great spots on Mount Nantai, ‘n then you’ll get to be all out in nature, nothing but plants all around. Dad’s always been a fan so we’ve got all the stuff for it, a couple of tents ‘n sleeping bags ‘n whatnot.”

“Ooh.” _That might be nice._ Peppermint stood up again, restless. The grass looked inviting to lie down on, but maybe another time when she had less energy to burn. She glanced around, wondering where to wander. All the buildings looked uninteresting but she couldn’t see much of what else was outside, surrounded by them as she was, so she picked a random direction and began walking.

They passed a few other people, and she received some stares from the strangers. The attention still made her uncomfortable. Badger seemed to notice that she quickened her pace to pass them sooner, placing one hand gently on her arm. Peppermint tore her gaze away from the staring, looking down at Badger with a nervous smile. She appreciated the gesture, the way Badger could tell when she was anxious and would offer reassurance, even if just in the form of a little reminder that she was there.

They ended up doing a wide circuit of the hospital grounds, then going around again when Peppermint still felt restless. The afternoon was fading, the orange of the setting sun spreading a gold lens over the world that intensified at first before it too began to dwindle. The summer warmth was enough that Peppermint wasn’t cold even with the unusual loose shirt she’d been given, and Badger looked almost uncomfortably warm in her zipped jacket.

“How come you did up your jacket?” Peppermint asked. “You look a bit too hot.”

“Honestly, I am,” Badger replied, sighing. “But I haven’t been home or anything yet, pretty much as soon as I was done telling the others everything they needed to know I came over here. After tearing it up I only have, like… a quarter of my shirt left.”

“Oh.” Had there not been time to get a different one? It looked like the day was wearing on, but she wasn’t sure what time it had been when they first got to the hospital. “How long was I asleep?”

“Fair few hours. They said you conked out pretty much immediately after getting the stitches, and it was about… half three when we got back to the studio? So must’ve been at least four hours or so.”

“Did it take a long time to explain everything, then?”

“Umm? Dunno. I got here around five, but some of that time was on the bus. Why?”

“It looks pretty late now. I’m just wondering how come you didn’t have time to get another shirt.”

“It wasn’t really about time,” Badger replied. “I mean… I didn’t know how long you were gonna be asleep for. If I’d known I might’ve gone ‘n got one, but…” She shrugged. “I dunno, I figured you might want someone you knew there when you woke up. Lots of people don’t really like hospitals, and I’d guess you’ve never been in one before…”

“Mmm. I haven’t.” Peppermint looked down at her thoughtfully. “So you were just sat there waiting for me to wake up for a few hours?”

Badger scratched at the back of her neck awkwardly, looking away. “Y-yeah.”

“You’re so _nice,_” Peppermint said, smiling. “You’re definitely the nicest person I’ve met. Though… that’s not really many people… but still. You are.”

“Aww, Pep. Don’t, you’ll make me embarrassed,” Badger replied with a light chuckle, though true to her word, a slight blush rose in her cheeks. “‘S hard _not_ to be nice to you. Who’d wanna be mean to a big softie like you?”

“I’m soft?”

“_So_ soft. I mean, come on, you even care about _Hatchet_, even though you only just met her today and she’s been nothing but horrible,” Badger pointed out. “You were straight up shot and could barely move but you still were worrying about someone who’s basically a stranger to you.”

“She saved our lives…”

“And then you repaid the favour. But you were still worrying about her, right? Since you wanted to go see her when you got up.”

“Mmm…” It was true that Hatchet was… less than pleasant company. Peppermint still found herself hoping she would recover, though. “She’s… well, she’s rude and a bit intimidating, but…” She paused, narrowing her eyes. “There’s something else, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Is it ‘cause she’s like you?”

“Maybe? I’m not sure.”

They passed a bench and Peppermint sat down, having done three laps of the wide hospital’s area by now. She didn’t feel stiff anymore, but didn’t want to go back inside just yet. Badger sat down next to her as she considered what she thought of Hatchet. Did she really need to have a reason to care about her? If her circumstances had been similar to Peppermint’s, then it might be the case that she’d never felt cared about before, either. That was a sad thought. _Oh… Is that why Badger looked so sad when I told her that?_ In any case, she _did_ care about Hatchet, no matter what the reason was.

She was distracted from her thoughts by Badger fidgeting next to her. She had leaned forward, only to soon sit back again, but couldn’t seem to get comfortable. She kept shifting slightly, and sighed.

_I wonder why that is…? _Peppermint leaned over and pulled Badger onto her lap, clasping her hands around Badger’s waist.

“P-Pep?” Badger squeaked, startled.

“If I’m so soft I should be comfy to sit on, too,” Peppermint replied, leaning back against the bench.

“That’s- _not _how that works,” Badger sputtered, but didn’t try to move. Peppermint let out an amused breath. _I know._

Badger didn’t lean back against Peppermint, and she presumed the inkling was just being wary of her wound, but as the moments ticked by it became apparent Badger was still restless. Eventually she shifted on Peppermint’s lap, twisting to sit sideways and be able to face her.

“Um, Pep?” she asked awkwardly.

“Mm?”

Badger looked down, taking a while to respond. Peppermint watched attentively.

“Um… How much do you know about, like… gender ‘n stuff?”

Peppermint tilted her head thoughtfully. She hadn’t expected a question like that. “I don’t really get it. I know… that there are different pronouns and everyone else seems to be able to guess what ones to use for everyone but I’m never really sure until I hear someone else use some. That’s kind of it, really…”

“I thought it might be something like that,” Badger said quietly. “‘Cause… I dunno. I’ve been thinkin’ about it, and… Well, I guess if that’s all you get about it, then the only thing relevant to that is I think I wanna try different pronouns.”

“Okay. What should I use for you then?”

Badger looked at her wordlessly for a moment, as if not expecting that response. “...Um, they them. I think… that suits me better.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

Badger held their gaze almost in disbelief for a while before eventually closing their eyes and leaning against her shoulder. “...Thanks, Pep. You’re the best.”

Peppermint hugged them, squeezing them gently. “Is it a big deal?”

“I mean, it _shouldn’t _be,” Badger replied, sounding tired. “It should just be as simple as that. But a lot of people are… kinda garbage about it.”

“Why’s that?”

“No idea. People are too entrenched in old stupid ideas. It’s… sorta getting better, I think. A lot more people are at least aware of the existence of nonbinary genders now.”

“I only just got to be aware of the existence of _any _genders. It’s all new to me,” Peppermint said. “I just… go with what people tell me.”

“Are you alright with that?” Badger asked. “When it comes to you yourself, I mean.”

“I think so?” Peppermint paused, thinking briefly. “I don’t really know enough about it to say otherwise. I don’t really know what it means to be a girl, but I don’t know what it means to be anything else either, so…”

“That’s… probably fine in the meantime, then,” Badger said. “I’ve never had any real connection with… femininity or any of that. But I don’t really consider myself a man, either. All I know is I don’t really think I’m a girl.”

“Course not, you’re a fuckin’ _shrimp_,” came a familiar crass voice from behind them, making Badger jump. They quickly looked up over Peppermint’s shoulder as she turned to see Hatchet behind them, now wearing a similar loose garb to Peppermint and still looking about as exhausted as the last time they’d seen her.

“H-Hatchet!” Badger spluttered in surprise. “H-how much of that did you hear?”

Hatchet snorted derisively at their shock. “Enough to get the gist. Don’t have a cod-damn heart attack about it, it’s not like I care.”

“This was meant to be a private conversation,” Badger muttered sullenly. “You’re hardly at the top of the list of people I’d want to come out to first.”

“Should’ve been paying more attention then.” Hatchet surveyed them for a brief moment with a cold stare. “You two dating or something?”

“_No_, we’re just- Pep just likes hugs,” Badger said hastily, turning away and moving off of Peppermint’s lap.

“Don’t you like them too?” Peppermint asked.

“Well- yeah, but…” Badger trailed off as a new blush worked its way onto their face.

“Whatever,” Hatchet said dismissively, walking around the bench to stand in front of it. “Either way, fuck off.”

“What? No,” Badger said, furrowing their brow. “What makes you think you can just butt in and get rid of me?”

“Hush now, pipsqueak. The fucked up lab experiments are talking,” Hatchet replied sarcastically, grabbing the front of Badger’s jacket and yanking them up off the bench, then shoving them away and taking their seat. They stumbled, struggling to maintain their balance.

“Hey! What’s your problem!?” Badger said indignantly.

“Why are you so mean to Badger?” Peppermint asked, frowning.

“You think it’s them in specific?” Hatchet replied, snorting. “Don’t kid yourself. They’re not special.”

“Then why are you mean in general?”

“Why aren’t you?” Hatchet sat back on the bench, crossing her arms and glaring at Badger. “Go on. Scram.”

Badger narrowed their eyes at her, then glanced at Peppermint. “You fine with it?”

Peppermint looked down at Hatchet beside her uncomfortably. She did want to talk to her, but she didn’t like the way she’d just forced Badger out of the picture. She didn’t seem like she’d be willing to talk any other way though, if her silent glowering was anything to go by.

“...It’s okay,” she said reluctantly.

“If you’re sure. I’ll go wait over by that first grassy patch for you.” Badger hesitated slightly, unwilling to leave, but turned and walked back down the path.

Hatchet continued to scowl at them as they went, hissing slightly once they were out of earshot. “Stupid wretch.”

“Why _are_ you so mean?” Peppermint repeated.

“Why _aren’t_ you?” Hatchet echoed contemptuously.

“I don’t want to be mean,” Peppermint replied.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the fucking same as you, am I?”

“You’re more like me than most people…”

Hatchet’s mouth twisted in a quiet snarl. “Idiot.”

Peppermint frowned. “What did you want? I don’t want to sit here and listen to you insulting me.”

Hatchet huffed, then was quiet for a moment before she spoke. “How long’ve you been out in the rest of the world?”

“When the test centre shut down? It was a couple of weeks ago.”

“_Great_, so you don’t know shit about it. What are you doing now?”

“I… got a job, I guess,” Peppermint replied contemplatively. “Tomorrow I get keys to my own flat, too.”

“Wow, look at you. Fitting right into society,” Hatchet muttered bitterly.

“What about you?” Peppermint asked.

“I learned how to destroy that thing. Now I’m gonna do just that,” Hatchet said, a certain coldness seeping into her voice.

“How long have you been out?”

Hatchet was silent for a moment. “Never paid attention to dates. Dunno. It’s been a long time, though.”

Mention of dates piqued Peppermint’s curiosity. “Did you ever look at the files about you?”

Hatchet growled. “Why the fuck would I have wanted to do that?”

“I found out my birthday and how old I am from that…”

“Lucky you. I don’t give a shit.” Hatchet stared ahead of her, and Peppermint saw the way she twitched slightly as she scratched her arm.

“...Are you okay?” Peppermint asked softly.

Hatchet glared at her incredulously. “Yeah, I just got _fucking shot_ today, no, I’m just peachy.”

“No, I mean…” Peppermint looked down, trying to work out the words that matched her feelings. “You kind of seem like you’re hurt… in a different way. Do you… want a hug?”

“What? _No_, fuck off,” Hatchet spat, growling and glaring at her. “If you fucking touch me you’ll end up needing more stitches than when you got here.”

“Okay, okay! No hugs,” Peppermint said hastily, shuffling away from her slightly. Hatchet huffed and looked away again.

“Anyway,” she started irritably. “You want that thing gone too, don’t you?”

“The AI?” Peppermint shivered slightly. “I… well, I do, but… I don’t really want to go looking for it…”

“Coward,” Hatchet said accusingly.

“It almost killed me! Multiple times! It almost killed _all of us_!” Peppermint replied indignantly. “Of course I’m afraid of it.”

“And? It needs to _die_,” Hatchet growled. “So help me kill it.”

“I don’t think you can really _kill _a computer construct…”

“Are you really being fucking pedantic right now?” Hatchet said incredulously. Peppermint shrunk on herself slightly, leaning further away from Hatchet, who continued. “That bastard is going down either way. It’ll just be faster with you helping. You’re friends with those punks who got the list of its other places, right?”

“Yes…”

“So get me that. You don’t even have to deal with the rest of it. Fuckin’ baby.”

Peppermint scowled at her. “Sorry for having a sense of self-preservation,” she retorted. “...Are you going to go to the rest of them on your own?”

“Does it _look like_ anyone else is coming with me?” Hatchet replied snarkily. “Henry doesn’t know shit so he’d be useless. That other kid is just a kid so also useless. You seem to actually have a brain, but you’re too fucking chicken, so too bad.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Today was… not ideal. And that was with more of us to help.”

“Today my _fucking generator_ just packed in at a shit moment. Next time I’ll make sure it’s fully charged,” Hatchet said irritably. “What, you wanna say you’re _worried _about me or something?”

“Yes? Of course I am?” Peppermint said, confused. “We just did something that almost got us all killed and you want to go right back into something like that on your own? Who _wouldn’t_ be worried?”

“Isn’t that just _sickening_,” Hatchet said, curling her lip in disgust. “Mind your fucking business and leave me alone.”

“You were the one who asked me to help…”

“I _told_ you to _get me that cod-damn list_,” Hatchet snapped, standing. “So do that. Then you can get lost.”

She stalked away before Peppermint had a chance to say anything. Peppermint stared after her, frustrated. Did she not realise how dangerous it was? Was she _trying_ to get herself killed or was she just reckless and stubborn? Peppermint shook her head, then went to find Badger. At least they tended to make sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> figure i may as well include as a lil note i like to headcanon that inkling language is developed enough to have separate words for male/female etc wrt gender n biological sex, which is why pep has no concept of gender despite knowing plenty of biology


	23. Moving onward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter now features an amazing piece of art done by my friend skye!!!!! (link: https://artfight.net/attack/1287009.tiny-hat) their username is skygummi, go check out their fic Metro Tones!!!!!

When Peppermint found Badger, they headed back into the hospital. She didn’t really want to just sit in a bed all evening, but it didn’t seem like there was much choice in the matter. When they arrived back, the doctor who had treated her before was there.

“Oh, there you are. Here, please fill this in,” they said, handing her a form.

Peppermint looked over it. It asked for all manner of details of things she didn’t know. The only thing she’d be able to fill in were her name and date of birth.

“Um… I don’t know most of this…”

“In that case, what’s your full name and date of birth, and the doctor you normally see?”

“Peppermint, seventeenth June, I’m nineteen years old. I’ve never seen a doctor before.”

“Right… Last name?”

“People have last names?”

“Oh boy,” Badger muttered. “How to explain this…” They paused briefly before looking up to the doctor. “She’s not going to have any medical records or anything. She kind of…”

“Is she one of these new people who’ve come up from underground?”

Badger blinked. “Uh. I guess so?”

The doctor looked at Peppermint questioningly.

“It was more like underwater, but yes,” she said. “I’d never been to the surface before about two weeks ago.”

“Huh. You speak the language a lot better than most of the new patients. We have a different form for that, just fill in whatever you can,” they said, taking back the form and handing her a new one. “There’s still a lot of legal faff going on about how to handle all of that, but we’re not going to turn away people in need of care. Speaking of which, we’d like you to stay overnight, but if in the morning everything looks to be healing well and the stitches holding fine, you’ll be free to go. It’ll probably take about a week to heal up completely, but unless it opens up again, there’s no need to stay here.”

“Is Hatchet… um, the person who came here at the same time as me… Is it the same for her?”

“Yes, she’s recovering fine as well. If you’re worried about her outburst earlier, we have other alternatives to stitches, so she still received treatment. Have you eaten?”

“No…” Peppermint paused, realising she was actually quite ravenous. She hadn’t noticed at first, distracted by the lingering pain, but the walk had woken up her stomach.

“There’s a canteen on the second floor.” The doctor flicked their gaze to Badger. “Visiting hours will be over soon.”

“Yeah, no worries,” Badger said, checking their phone. “Fifteen minutes, right?”

The doctor nodded, then turned to walk away, leaving them alone. Peppermint glanced to the door, then back to Badger.

“C’mon, let’s get you some dinner,” Badger said, heading back to the corridor. “We didn’t even have lunch, you must be pretty starved.”

“Mm…” Peppermint followed as Badger led the way through the ward. “Did you get anything to eat while you were waiting?”

“Yeah, I grabbed some snacks ‘n stuff,” Badger replied, rifling through their pocket and pulling out some crisps. “I’ll have a proper dinner when I get home.” They looked up at her as they walked through the halls. “Your birthday’s seventeenth June?”

“Mm-hmm,” Peppermint replied. “Or… I guess it is… in the files that’s when it listed being taken out of incubation, so as close as it’ll get to one…”

“Wow. Talk about a coincidence, mine’s eighteenth June. You’re all of one whole day older than me.”

It didn’t take long to find the canteen, and it was fairly empty. Peppermint supposed it was due to how late in the day it was. She was unsure what to do, and Badger talked her through getting a tray and choosing one of the meals available, and she sat down at one of the tables with it. Badger checked the time on their phone again and sighed.

“Well, I guess I oughtta go,” they said. “You remember where you’re going to get back to your room when you’re done?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Good.” Badger pulled her in for a hug, which she enthusiastically returned. Being sat down, she was the shorter of the two of them for once, and found she quite liked it - even if she did get a faceful of mothball smell - and nuzzled into the crook of Badger’s neck. She felt one of their hands move to stroke her hair, and she hummed a contented note. Moments like these were the best ones, she decided. Even with the aching in her chest and the hunger gnawing at her stomach, she was still happy above all else.

They were still and quiet for a long moment, Badger’s hand gently moving down her hair and back again. When they did let go, they seemed reluctant to draw away, slow to do so.

“Tomorrow are you just gonna head back to Sheldon’s?”

“Mm-hmm. Though… I’m meant to get the keys to my flat too… so I guess I’ll go there after the shop closes.”

“You reckon he’d make you work even if you’re straight outta hospital?” Badger asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Do people normally not?”

“Naw, you usually get some time off to rest ‘n heal up. Though I guess your kinda work probably isn’t too strenuous… I dunno.” They paused briefly. “You got a phone? If I give you my number you could send me a text when you’re out.”

Peppermint shook her head. “No… Only the CQ-80, but it doesn’t seem to work too far away from the Metro.”

“Hmm…” Badger paused briefly, thinking. “Well, I’ll give it to you anyway, I’m sure you could borrow Sheldon’s when you get there.” They pulled a pen out of their pocket and scribbled down some digits on a napkin, handing it to Peppermint. “Let me know when you’re free, yeah?”

“Okay. I will.”

“Alright,” they said, ruffling Peppermint’s hair slightly. “See ya tomorrow then?”

“Mm-hmm. See you then.”

They flashed Peppermint one of their usual casual smiles, but something about it seemed a little different. A little softer. Peppermint smiled back and waved as they walked away, laughing quietly as they walked backwards to point finger guns and wink at her as they went, bumping straight into the door. Peppermint grinned as they jumped at unexpectedly meeting the solid wall, clearly flustered as they hastily turned to see it was only a door. They gave one last sheepish wave before going through it and disappearing out of sight.

Peppermint ate quickly, going back for seconds when she didn’t feel full. Once she was sated, she made her way back to the room she’d been in before. Glancing towards the bed Badger had said was Hatchet’s, the curtain near it had been pulled out, obscuring her view. Maybe that meant she was back. Was she allowed to look? If she was, would Hatchet just snap at her if she did? Deciding to risk it, she cautiously poked her head around the side of the curtain. Hatchet was there, lying on her side facing away from her. _Maybe she’s asleep. She did look pretty tired…_ Deciding it would be best not to disturb her, Peppermint returned to her own bed, pulling the curtain across for some privacy. Lying down, she wasn’t sure she wanted to sleep after napping for so long, but there wasn’t exactly much to do, and post-meal lethargy soon set in, drawing her into a drowsy state. Closing her eyes, she eventually drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, she was woken by the bustle of hospital staff around her. Not too many came into the room, but she could hear them walking past in the corridor. Opening the curtains around her bed and glancing around the room, she saw that Hatchet’s bed was already empty. She sat down on her own and it didn’t take long for someone to come and see her, and they soon checked her stitches and, satisfied they were holding, said she could go. Apparently they were ‘absorbable’, and would disappear on their own. She wandered her way to the bus stop, soon on her way back to the city centre. The bus driver barely glanced at her return ticket, crumpled from being in her pocket. She took a window seat to look at all the different buildings they passed again, and once she began to recognise the area close to the square stood to get off. She didn’t really remember the way back from the bus stop, but there were plenty of signs for the lobby, so followed those and eventually found her way back to Ammo Knights. Pushing the door open, she saw Sheldon look up from the counter as she walked in.

“You’re back! How are you doing? I heard you were quite injured. Are you alright now?”

“Mm, I’m okay,” she replied. “Still hurts, but I can do things without it being too bad now.”

He glanced at her jeans, still thoroughly blood stained. “Why don’t you go and get changed?”

She nodded and went upstairs. Getting a different pair to wear and one of her own shirts, she paused when she pulled off the loose one the hospital had provided, looking down at her chest. The skin looked healthy enough, though it was discoloured, a splotchy patch beneath the wound paler than the rest. The almost-white spread past where the wound itself was, snaking out across her torso in all directions. Was that an effect of the weird ink? What exactly had that stuff been? She gently poked at it, at a spot not too close to the stitches. It didn’t hurt or otherwise protest at being disturbed. _Huh. _She carefully wriggled her way into one of her own shirts and picked up the old jeans, looking through the pockets for the napkin Badger had given her before going back downstairs.

“Do you have a phone I can use?” she asked as she arrived back on the shop floor. “Badger wanted to know when I got back.”

“Sure,” Sheldon said, pulling his out. “Do you know how to use it?”

“Um…” She had been able to work out the CQ-80 enough to use it, but she hadn’t had to make any new contacts or anything as C. Q. Cumber had given it to her with his already in it. “Not sure.”

He opened something up on it before handing it to her. “Just put the number there, then the actual message there.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She typed up a brief text and sent it, then handed the phone back to Sheldon, looking around the shop. “What should I do?”

“You want to work?” he asked, surprised.

“I’m not doing anything else…”

“I wasn’t expecting you to work. Not when you’ve just had to stay in hospital injured,” he said. “Well, I suppose if you’re willing, I can count it as overtime and it’ll go towards paying off that tenta brella, since it’s _gone_,” he continued, tutting slightly. “If you don’t want to while you’re recovering though, you don’t have to.”

Peppermint paused to think. She wasn’t really sure what she wanted to do. After having seen a little more of the city from the bus, she was curious to look around, but if Badger was coming to meet her, she probably shouldn’t wander off. 

“What exactly happened yesterday?” Sheldon asked. “Agent Three didn’t explain much before going again. Did you find the person you were looking for?”

“Mmm… we did,” Peppermint said. “We found… a few people.” She paused, thinking through how to describe what had happened. “We went to where that octoling boy thought it might have been and found a hidden entrance to another test centre like where I came from. But in that one the AI was still there. It trapped us… in a big blender…” She shuddered uncomfortably, remembering the terror she felt in those moments. “But someone else - Hatchet - had gone too, and she turned everything off with an EMP and broke us out of it. And then when we were looking around we found the person from the photo, and someone else too. But the other person was being controlled by the AI, and everything came back on, and he… he had a shooter I didn’t recognise. It was a lot more powerful than anything in here… and used weird ink. Hatchet and I both got shot. Badger managed to get the stuff controlling him off but… the AI really didn’t want us getting out and tried to make the centre self destruct. But Marina showed up and managed to stall it long enough for us to get out.”

Sheldon stared up at her with a look she couldn’t quite discern. There was some shock in it, and something else…

“...As I recall, when I first met you, you said something about wanting to ‘not be about to die for a while’. Is this common for you?”

“No… It’s only been in the last few weeks…” Peppermint sighed. “I don’t _want_ to be in these situations. They’re exhausting and terrifying.”

“Just how many near death experiences have you had in that time?”

“Too many.” She narrowed her eyes as she went through them. Falling trying to get back down to the test centre. Everything on the way up the statue. Waiting starving and alone at the top of the statue. Almost being blended up. Being shot. Almost being blown up. “Six.”

“Wow. You’re like a grizzled war-hero.”

Peppermint stared down at him, then laughed. That was such a stark contrast to how Badger had been describing her just yesterday. “I don’t think so. I’ve only been trying to find some answers.”

“You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh,” Sheldon said, smiling. “It seems like you’ve found some happiness, at the very least.”

Peppermint blinked, thinking over his words. “...Mm. I guess I have.”

She went to lean against the wall, looking out the window at the square - only to spot Badger and Eight walking along with photo-girl and Henry in tow. Eight spotted her and waved, quickly pointing her out to Badger and the others.

“Oh. That was fast,” Peppermint said quietly as they all piled into the shop.

“Hey, Pep! We were already in town so came right over,” Badger said cheerily. “They wanted to have a look around so me ‘n Eight were about to show them around the city a little, wanna tag along?”

“Sure,” Peppermint said, smiling and giving Badger a quick hug.

“Oh! Can I have a hug too?” photo-girl asked, watching them with an energetic curiosity.

“Um, sure?” Peppermint let go of Badger, turning to photo-girl as she enthusiastically approached and wrapping her arms around the smaller girl.

“She already picked out a name too,” Badger said.

“What? That was… quick…” Peppermint looked down at her, a little disconcerted. Was it only her that had taken so long to get a name?

“Yeah! I’m Lavender,” she piped up.

“Seems she took a page outta your book and named herself after a plant too,” Badger said. “We walked past some lavender bushes and she just asked what those were after going ‘n having a look and announced that was her name now, too.”

“They’re the same colour as my hair! And they smell real nice, too,” Lavender said. “And a sense of individuality is important, I think. Whenever I learned about psychology and philosophy and all that, it always seemed like there was a pretty significant topic that I wasn’t being told about. After seeing what the AI thing said to you, about… well, when you said you didn’t belong to it and all… I guess it was deliberate. But y’know, in all these things, they’re kind of intrinsically related so it was a little obvious what was missing when I really thought about it… and after I got to see you express yourself. That helped, too.”

It sounded like Lavender had been taught in a completely different area to Peppermint. She’d never learned much about either philosophy or psychology, her education focusing more on the core sciences. The only thing close to studying behaviour or thoughts that she’d done was learning about human history, and how they had acted then. _I wonder why it was different?_

Lavender let go of her and hopped towards the door. “Come on, I want to see more! Let’s _go_.”

Badger smiled, chuckling slightly. “Don’t worry, the world isn’t going anywhere.” They glanced up at Peppermint as they headed out of the shop, on their way to the rest of the city. “How’s your chest?”

“It’s a little better today. Still hurts if I raise my arms too much, though…”

“I am glad to see you are okay,” Eight said, walking alongside her. “When I saw you before, it was… It was giving me fear.”

Peppermint looked down at her, not really sure what to say. “...Thank you,” she settled on. “I’m okay now.” She didn’t feel she knew Eight very well, but appreciated the concern nonetheless.

“That is good,” Eight replied, smiling.

Peppermint’s gaze drifted to the tiny hat she wore. She may not understand Eight that well, but she did know one thing - messing with her was fun. Waiting for her to look away, Peppermint quickly plucked the hat off her head and put it on her own.

“Hey! That is _mine_!” Eight squawked indignantly, reaching to try and snatch it back. Being more than half a foot taller than her, Peppermint easily avoided her, holding her arm at bay and grinning.

“Nope. Mine now.”

“Peppermint!” Eight struggled against her, but couldn’t get through to grab it back. “Badger, she is being mean!”

Badger was feigning ignorance, looking away, but at being addressed they had to turn their attention to the pair of them. They glanced up at Peppermint, still grinning and grasping both of Eight’s wrists to stop her from taking the hat back.

“Looks good on you, Pep,” they said, snickering.

“_Badger!_” Eight said incredulously.

“Whaddya want me to do? I’m even shorter than you,” they pointed out.

“Tell her to stop!”

“Pep, will you listen if I tell ya to quit it?”

“...Maybe,” Peppermint replied.

“Okay. Stop, then.”

“Okay.” Peppermint stopped, staying perfectly still and not loosening her hold on Eight’s wrists. Badger looked at her, then started laughing. Eight whined.

“Peppermint! _Please _give it back,” she pleaded, having given up on trying to outmatch her strength.

“How about you have it when it inevitably falls off? All you need to do is lightly brush it with a pebble. Maybe even a feather.”

Eight pouted. “You are being mean!”

Badger was still laughing, and Eight gave them an accusatory look. Badger saw it, and snickered.

“You know there’s a really easy solution to this, right?” they said, flashing Peppermint a knowing look.

It didn’t take long for Peppermint to realise what they meant. _We haven’t had more shwaffles yet._ “Don’t tell her, this is fun,” she said.

“_Is not!_” Eight said, thoroughly disgruntled. “What? What is it?”

Badger looked away, an amused smile still clinging to their face. “Well, now what am I supposed to do? I don’t want to pick sides in your little scuffle.”

“Not telling me _is_ picking her side!” Eight said.

“Well, Pep?” Badger looked up at her. “Do I gotta tell her or will you give it back?”

Peppermint whined slightly. “Fine…” She let go of Eight, dipping her head so the tiny hat fell off into her hands and gave it back.

Eight scowled at her as she put it back on, moving away and out of arm’s reach. “Mean.”

Peppermint giggled and looked onwards, walking again. Lavender was ahead of them, but had stopped to watch their little shenanigans, smiling brightly.

“Are you laughing as well?” Eight asked suspiciously.

“I just think it’s nice to see people having fun,” Lavender said. “When we were in the test centre all I saw of those two was very nervous and tense. I mean, understandably, given the circumstances. But it’s still nice to see everyone relaxing. Actually, it’s nice to see people in general! I always learned about them but never really got to see any real behaviour. I _thought_ I did, but…” She glanced at Henry, silent behind them. “I guess that was a facade by the AI. Now I get to see everything in practice! And just seeing how people interact with each other is amazing. I want to see all about how everyone fits together with each other! But I like seeing people having a good time together the most, I think.”

“I am not having a good time with that,” Eight muttered sullenly, holding her hat protectively.

Peppermint looked back at Henry behind them, having forgotten he was even there. He still wore that lost look he’d had at the test centre. She fell back to walk beside him. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? I… I’m fine…” He looked aside awkwardly. “I just… don’t really know anything about… well, anything, really…”

“I felt like that when I first got out of the test centre too,” Peppermint said.

“You still remember what your life was up to that point though, don’t you?” He looked up at her appraisingly. “I don’t have that. And I don’t have any recollection of ever learning anything, like Lavender does. Honestly, I’m a little amazed I even know and understand speech. I don’t remember learning that.”

Peppermint thought for a moment. “I don’t really remember learning that myself. I think you learn it too early to remember anyway.”

“I don’t really remember anything at all,” he said dejectedly. “Occasionally it feels like I have the vaguest recollection of _something_, but it hasn’t turned into anything so far.”

“Well… If what happened to you both in the test centre was much like how it was for me… I don’t think it matters too much,” Peppermint said. “Learning things in theory is… not the same as in practice. I think, in the little time I’ve been out here… I’ve learned more than I ever did in the test centre.”

“Hmm…” He didn’t seem satisfied, still looking somewhat forlorn. “Well, there’s not much for me to do regardless… I haven’t much choice but to see what happens next and try to work with it.”

Peppermint paused thoughtfully. He seemed like he was wandering without much direction, as she had when she first got out of the test centre. Lavender seemed surprisingly unfazed, bouncing around asking about anything and everything ahead of them, but Henry had the same uncertainty she had become accustomed to.

“Well… whatever you do end up doing next… you aren’t alone,” she said. “There are lots of nice people around, and all of us are here.”

He turned to her, a look of appreciation breaking through the worry that had written itself over his face. “...Thank you.”

Peppermint offered a small smile, then moved to catch up with the others. He followed suit.

As they went around the city, Badger and Eight pointed out all the places of interest, explaining them. Everywhere they went, Deca Tower was in sight, the great zapfish curled around it as usual. Peppermint found herself wondering how Lavender had so much boundless energy, as she would rush over to anything that took her interest and ask more about it, never seeming to slow down. Often, Eight wouldn’t know about whatever had piqued her interest and would have to turn to Badger to answer her questions. They were walking through a park when Badger pulled their phone out, having received a text.

“Oh, neat. Pep, Sheldon says Mar’s there with your flat keys. Wanna head back ‘n get ‘em?”

“Ooh. Yeah.” _Almost forgot about that._

“What do you all wanna do?” Badger asked. “We’re gonna go get Pep’s keys, you can keep going around without us or come with.”

“I’ll come!” Lavender said. “Keys for what?”

“An apartment,” Peppermint said.

“I suppose I’ll stay with you all, if Lavender’s going too,” Henry said quietly.

“Then we all will go,” Eight said. “There is no point in giving a tour to no-one.”

“Damn, Pep, you got a whole party taggin’ along to help you move,” Badger said, chuckling as they turned to lead the way back to Inkopolis Square. “Do you even have any stuff?”

“I have… clothes… That’s about it,” Peppermint said.

“Any idea what other stuff you might want now you’re getting a place of your own?”

“Um…” She hadn’t thought about that. She didn’t really know what people had in their homes. Sheldon’s was packed full of all sorts of _stuff_, all kinds of war paraphernalia and half assembled weapon prototypes. She didn’t really want any of that. “I don’t know…”

“Guess we can think about that once you’re actually in.”

They headed back to the square, not taking too long to get there, and Peppermint felt a sense of anticipation rising in her. Their journey away from the city centre had been slower, impeded by Lavender pausing so frequently to ask questions. The way back went faster, as she had already seen the majority of what they passed, but still occasionally spotted something that caught her curiosity. When they arrived back at Ammo Knights, Agent Two was still there talking to Sheldon. The two of them looked up as their little group all went into the shop, Agent Two eyeing the lot of them.

“You went and found quite a bunch of your lot, huh,” she remarked.

“We’re actually missing one,” Badger said, waving. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replied shortly. “How’s it going?”

“Oh… fine. You?”

“Same old.” Agent Two crossed to Peppermint, handing her some keys. “Here you go. Got your own home sweet home. Peppermint, right?”

“Yeah,” Peppermint said, taking the keys. “Um, thank you. For helping with this.”

“Just don’t expect me to do it for everyone,” she replied. “Once already gave me enough extra paperwork. Reminded me how much of a hassle moving is.” She looked over at Henry and Lavender briefly. “So there’s four of you including the one not here now, then?”

“Mm-hmm…”

“What happened with Hatchet, anyway?” Badger asked.

“Don’t know,” Peppermint said. “When I woke up, she was already gone.”

“Any plans on what’s happening with these two?” Agent Two asked.

“Haven’t figured it out yet. Last night they ended up crashing at Eight’s since that’s where there was space,” Badger replied.

“Of course there was. Pearl put her up, right? I’m not sure that girl knows what kinds of places normal people are used to living in.”

Badger snickered. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” They turned to Peppermint. “Wanna get your stuff? If it’s just clothes we can probs just take it all over now, right?”

“Yeah. Okay,” Peppermint agreed, going upstairs. Heading into the little spare room and picking up the bags that the majority of her clothes were still in, she paused before going back downstairs. _Goodbye, little room. _

Descending the stairs with bags in hand, she bade silent farewells to Sheldon’s flat. She was glad to be getting her own space, but was grateful to have had a place to stay in the meantime.

“All set?” Badger asked as she arrived on the shop floor.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Neat, let’s go then.”

Everyone began to file out of the shop again, but Agent Two briefly took hold of Peppermint’s elbow before she had a chance to follow, stopping her.

“Hmm?”

Agent Two dropped her hold again, looking up at Peppermint. “I just wanted to thank you for going out shopping with Agent One before. I know it was for your own benefit anyway, but I also know she’s a little overwhelming when she gets into it, and it gave her a chance to do something she loves. She’s… been down lately, but it helped her cheer up a bit. So I appreciate that.”

“Oh,” Peppermint said. “Um… That’s okay. If it helped her too, then I’m glad. And… Well, if she wants to buy me more stuff again, that would be fine with me…”

“Hah. I’m sure it would,” Agent Two said, creases appearing around her eyes, and Peppermint wondered if she might be smirking slightly beneath the face mask. “I’ll be sure to let her know.”

“Thanks again…” Peppermint turned to Sheldon behind the counter. “Thank you, too. For letting me stay here.”

“Oh, don’t mind it,” he said, smiling. “I did get a competent new employee and a new branch of my business out of it. And before you go,” he paused briefly, pulling something out from beneath the counter – a small brown paper envelope. “Here’s your pay for what you’ve worked so far, minus what goes to Agent Two, of course. Usually you’ll get paid around the end of each month, but you’ll need money to feed yourself and all.” 

“Oh. Thank you,” Peppermint said, taking the little envelope. “I’ll… see you tomorrow?”

“If you want to come back to work that soon, then by all means. If not, you can have the rest of the week off to recover.”

“Okay. I’ll see you when I come in.”

“See you then.”

Peppermint waved to the pair of them and followed the others, who had waited outside for her, outside and onwards to the flat. Thankfully the route was quite simple, enough that she remembered from the one time she’d been with Agent One before. Previously it had been about a twenty-minute walk, though once more their trip was slowed slightly by Lavender finding things to be curious about - the birds that perched and flitted between walls and telephone wires, a coffee shop they passed, creeping ivy growing on a particularly run-down looking building. When they did arrive, Badger took one of her bags of clothes from her so she could get the keys out of her pocket, unlocking the front door to the building with the fob on it. She didn’t quite remember which of the apartments was the one she’d gone to see, but the keys had a number on them, so she presumed it would be the one that matched. When she found the corresponding door, the key did unlock it, and she opened it up to the same sitting room she’d seen before.

“Here it is,” she said, walking in. “This is… my place.”

“Pretty nice,” Badger said as they followed her in, dropping the bag they’d taken onto the sofa and looking around.

Peppermint put the other one next to it and went into the kitchen as the others all wandered into her little flat, opening the cupboards. Aside from the crockery, they were all bare, unsurprisingly.

“Guess food shopping’s gonna be first on the list of things to do,” Badger commented.

“Mm…” Peppermint took the paper bag Sheldon had given her out of her pocket and opened it up. The notes inside were unfamiliar to her, but clearly labelled. She had no idea how much money would be considered a lot or only a little, so showed it to Badger. “Will that be enough for it?”

Badger checked what she showed them. “Oh, for sure. That’s plenty.”

She went back to the sitting room and picked up the bags, taking them to the bedroom. Eight and Lavender were both there, looking out at the balcony.

“This place is nice!” Lavender said. “I like the courtyard you can see out there. D’you think you get to choose what things are in the flowerbed down there?”

“Not sure,” Peppermint said, joining them and unlocking the door to the little balcony. Lavender quickly stepped out, looking around to the sides where she hadn’t been able to see from within. Eight watched her worriedly, as if her energetic attitude might carry her straight over the balustrade and falling down to the courtyard.

Peppermint put the bags of clothes next to the chest of drawers, ready to unpack later, and went back to the sitting room. Badger was investigating the sofa, pulling the cushions off.

“What are you doing?” Peppermint asked curiously.

“Checking if…” Badger paused after pulling the last one free and exposing the base of it. There was a mattress underneath with a folding frame that could be pulled out. “Aha, thought so. It’s a sofa bed. So if you moved that coffee table in front of it, you could get that part out, and it can be a bed, too.” They put all the cushions back into their previous positions. “It’s pretty darn nice for one of those kinds of sofa beds.”

“Oooh. I didn’t know it could do that.”

Peppermint went to sit down but stopped when her stomach audibly growled. _Oh. I didn’t have breakfast._

“Sounds like we shouldn’t wait on that food shopping, huh,” Badger said. “Or should we skip to the main event?”

Peppermint tilted her head, confused. “Main event?”

Badger grinned at her. “Shwaffles.”

Peppermint’s eyes widened. “...Triple-fried?”

“Triple-fried.”

“_Let’s do that,_” Peppermint said immediately.

Badger laughed at her enthusiasm, going to the bedroom where Eight and Lavender still stood at the balcony. “Hey, Eight. Remember what you promised before?”

“Hmm?” The octoling turned to them, and Lavender followed suit. “Promise?”

“I reckon it’s time to cash in on those victory shwaffles. After all, not only did we get the database like we wanted, we also found a new branch of the thing’s, pulled off a daring rescue of Henry 'n Lavender here, _and _left the place in pieces. Now if that’s not a mission success, I don’t know what is.”

Eight smiled, giggling slightly. “You are right. Okay, we can have a win celebration,” she said. “Although I think we may need more than one triple-fried.”

“I think you might be right,” Badger agreed as they went back to the sitting room. “I get the feeling Pep might want to try having one all to herself, too.”

“Does she?” Eight asked warily. “I _might_ allow that. If she is not insist on being mean.”

“I won’t do anything to your hat,” Peppermint said quickly. “I promise.”

“That is what you said before!”

“No, last time I said I wouldn’t knock it off again. And I didn’t do that,” Peppermint replied, but still looked away sheepishly. “B-but I won’t do anything else. Not today.”

“Don’t do anything else on any day!”

“_Okaaaay_,” Peppermint agreed defeatedly. “I won’t.”

“Hmm. Then okay, you can have one that is only for you.”

“Thank you!” Peppermint beamed, quickly perking up and heading for the door.

“Hey, don’t forget to lock up behind you,” Badger said.

“Oh. Why?” Peppermint asked, stopping in her tracks.

“You don’t want some stranger coming into your flat, right? Anyone could come in and take your stuff otherwise,” Badger explained.

“Oh. Would they do that?”

“You never know. You get all sorts of people - sadly, that means bad ones included. So best to keep safe.”

“Okay.” Peppermint went back to lock the balcony as everyone else went back out onto the landing, then locked her front door behind her. _Shwaffles. _Driven by her hunger and her desire for desserts, she walked quickly, hurrying back to the square.

“Hey, slow down a little,” Badger said, rushing to keep up. “Some of us are shorties with tiny legs, I can’t keep up with this kind of pace.”

“But shwaffle…”

“The Crust Bucket won’t be going anywhere,” Badger assured her.

“What if I carry you instead?”

Badger stared up at her, their cheeks colouring ever so slightly. “That, um, wouldn’t change that Lavender ‘n Eight are also significantly shorter than you.”

“Aw…” Peppermint had to admit, she wouldn’t be able to carry all three of them. She only had so many arms. She slowed slightly, but still maintained a relatively quick pace. Looking behind her, she realised the others were a little way behind them, not having run to keep up with her like Badger had. She looked down to Badger, speaking quietly.

“Um… Is it okay if I lied?”

“Hmm? What about?” Badger asked, curious.

“...The hat.”

Badger snorted, laughing. “She won’t keep taking you at your word forever. If you want to keep on having her as a shwaffle supplier, you’ll have to learn to leave it alone.”

“Aw…”

“Pick which you want more, annoying Eight, or shwaffles.”

“...But that’s a really hard choice…”

Badger snorted again. “I’ll admit, it is pretty funny, how mad she gets about it. Still, that’s the decision you have to make.”

“Hmm…” Peppermint looked ahead thoughtfully. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Once they reached the square, Eight got out her stash of tickets, and once more allowed Peppermint to pick a drink, doing the same for Lavender and Henry. She queued up with tickets in hand as the others picked a table to sit at, but Peppermint waited in line with Eight. She’d need help carrying everything, after all. It definitely wasn’t to get the shwaffle any sooner.

“Thank you, for this,” Peppermint said as she picked up cutlery for everyone.

“It is okay. I have too many tickets that I can use anyway,” Eight replied. “I think they…” She paused, furrowing her brow. “What is the word, when it cannot be used any more?”

“When it can’t be used?” Peppermint echoed. “Um… Expire?”

“That is right, I think. They expire, so I must try and use them before.”

Reaching the front of the queue, Eight handed over her tickets, and the drinks were soon ready. Peppermint took them back to the others while Eight waited, then returned to help carry the shwaffles. There were three in total - one for Peppermint, and two between the other four. Peppermint went back to the table as quickly as she dared, rushing but not wanting to end up dropping it. Badger snickered as she quickly dug in to the enormous stack of food.

“A challenger approaches for the Triple-Fried Test!” they said dramatically as they cut one of the other shwaffles in half, depositing Eight’s portion onto one of the spare plates they’d asked for. “Will we see a new victor, or will she face defeat?”

“I’s de-icious,” Peppermint said through a mouthful of shwaffle, closing her eyes contentedly. _Sweet things are heaven._

“Shwaffles are Peppermint’s favourite thing, I think,” Eight said with a wry smile.

Peppermint opened her eyes again as she swallowed, glancing down at the shwaffle before looking up, her gaze resting on Badger. “...Second favourite,” she corrected. The delicious dessert was certainly wonderful, but it didn’t quite hold up.

“Aww, Pep. You’re too sweet,” Badger said, trying to maintain their usual casual attitude, but couldn’t stop the blush that crept onto their cheeks, and they looked aside bashfully. It didn’t escape Eight’s notice, and Peppermint heard the slightest of gasps from her. She looked over questioningly.

“Um, it is nothing,” Eight said hastily when she noticed, but she was smiling. Peppermint left it, happy to turn her attention back to the shwaffle. Saying nothing more, she worked through it rapidly, and soon there was less than half of it left on her plate. When she was down to about a quarter of it left, she began to feel full and slowed down, looking around at everyone else.

Lavender and Henry seemed to be enjoying it, too, and Lavender had nearly finished the half she’d been given. Badger and Eight were in no rush, taking a much more relaxed pace with theirs. Peppermint sat back in her seat, allowing her stomach to rest for a moment.

“Too much for ya?” Badger asked.

“Hmm… I won’t give up,” Peppermint replied. “Just taking a break.”

“I, for one, am already impressed,” Badger said, smiling amusedly. “And if you have to walk away, no-one will think any less of you.”

Peppermint looked at what was left of it on her plate. Sitting forward, she piled all of what remained onto the fork, balancing it awkwardly, then turned back to Badger.

“Do it, I dare ya,” they said quietly, grinning.

Peppermint maintained eye contact as she shoved the last of it into her mouth all in one go. It didn’t quite fit, and she had to chew it down to be able to close her mouth around it.

“Gross!” Eight complained as Badger laughed incredulously.

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” they said. Peppermint tried to smile around the enormous mouthful of food, succeeding only in almost choking, and hastily swallowed it down before it ended up coughed out. It was far too much to comfortably go down at once, and she felt her throat complain as it went, grabbing her drink to help wash it down.

Waiting until the discomfort passed, she bit her lip as she smiled nervously, wiping her face off with a napkin. “That… maybe wasn’t a good idea.”

“No, I don’t think it was,” Badger laughed. “But it was impressive, if not kinda disgusting.”

“Very disgusting!” Eight said. “I am afraid for a moment you would spit it out on me.”

“Well, now we know,” Badger said, still grinning. “It is in fact possible for a single person to eat a whole triple-fried galactic shwaffle.”

“It _is_ a lot of food,” Lavender said. “I feel a bit full and I haven’t even finished half of one.”

Peppermint flopped forward, leaning on the table and resting her head in her hands as a feeling of nausea began to rise. “If I’d had breakfast I don’t think I could have done that. ...I started on a completely empty stomach and _still_ ate too much and feel sick now.”

“You’ll have to take a nap when we’re done,” Badger replied, still holding onto that air of amusement.

“...But now home is so far away…”

“Did that bed even have sheets on it or anything?”

“I don’t know…”

Badger patted her head, taking another bite of their own shwaffle. “There, there. You’ll get through this,” they said jokingly.

Peppermint closed her eyes and sighed. Feeling sick from eating too much, she zoned out of the conversation, dozing. She idly let the time pass, hoping her stomach wouldn’t take too long to work its way through the shwaffle and get back to feeling normal. When she eventually listened in again, they were talking about where to stay.

“It is fine to stay at mine, for now, but three of us in one flat is many, I think,” Eight said. “I do not want to stress and get into fights…”

“Yeah, it’s important to have enough space for everyone,” Badger said.

“If we get something for that sofa bed, someone could stay with me,” Peppermint said quietly.

“Oh! Me! Me me me!” Lavender said. “I wanna stay there! It’s closer to all the city and things!”

“...Okay, that’s that decision made,” Badger said. “Guess we’ll get bed stuff for both.”

“I don’t wanna move,” Peppermint complained. “Someone else get it.”

Badger chuckled lightly. “No can do. It’s your stuff, you should get it. Plus if you’ve never had money before I’d guess you’ve never bought stuff before, so you gotta tag along for the tutorial on _how to buy things_.”

Peppermint scowled. “I’ve _seen_ people buy things. I work in a _shop_.”

“True, but you’re still coming too.”

Peppermint whined and reluctantly sat up. “Okay, but let’s do that already so I can go nap.”

Badger gave her a relaxed smile as she stood, joining her and leading the way to another set of shops around the corner from the square. The others stayed behind as they showed Peppermint to a home wares store, and soon found what they needed. Not fussed about design and further disinterested by her impatience, Peppermint chose the first ones she saw - soon corrected by Badger with the appropriately sized ones of the same pattern - and got those. When they finished, they went back to the others before heading back.

“Gonna go get bed ready for sleepyhead here,” Badger said, “What are you all gonna do?”

“Lavender is want to try turf war,” Eight said brightly. “I was thinking to get my brush and we could all play.”

“Yeah? Sounds fun. If I have time to grab my roller, I’ll join in after,” Badger replied. “See you in a bit, then.”

“See you!”

The two of them went back to Peppermint’s flat and set about putting the new bed sheets to use. As soon as the bed was made, Peppermint flopped on it tiredly, sideways so as not to land on her injury. The impact still made it hurt slightly more, but it dulled again soon enough.

Badger ruffled her hair slightly, smiling. “If you wanna find us later, come by the lobby. Knowing Eight, she’ll be happy to hit up turf war for hours, and Lav certainly seems like she has the energy to keep up.”

“Mm-hmm,” Peppermint replied, yawning. “See you then.”

“Alright. Sweet dreams, sleepyhead.”

Pulling the duvet over herself and closing her eyes, Peppermint listened as Badger made their way out of the flat, hearing the door click behind them. _Sweet dreams… Maybe I’ll dream of shwaffle._ Her mind drifted as she remembered Eight’s comment, and her own response. _Maybe I’ll dream of you._


	24. Fresh beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the art added to the end here is by my pal jenn, username angelictactics!!! (link: https://artfight.net/attack/1464921.read-piperidine) go read their stuff its super good!!!!

Peppermint awoke feeling more well rested than she had in a long time. Having a properly sized bed was a wonderful change from Sheldon’s little guest room. The double bed provided with the flat was bigger than any she’d had at the test centre, too. So much space to herself was quite comfortable. She no longer felt nauseatingly full and sat up, stretching.

Looking out the window, it was still bright and sunny, with no sign of the day ending soon. Her flat was quiet with no-one else here, almost silent, but in a different way to anything she’d experienced before. The few trees in the courtyard outside beckoned birds to their branches and she could hear them singing, and in the background was the noise of cars going by every now and then. It wasn’t like the bustle of people in the shop and the square when she was at Ammo Knights, not as loud and unpleasant, yet still more comforting than the eerie silence she’d been used to at the test centre. It felt somewhat strange, being alone again anywhere else. It was a little disconcerting, a little too reminiscent. That said, she _had _just offered to let Lavender stay here, so until the younger girl found her own place she wouldn’t be all on her own here.

Pulling herself out of bed, Peppermint decided to put her clothes away in the chest of drawers provided before going to find the others, idly wondering what having Lavender around would be like. She seemed very energetic. Was it just excitement at her new surroundings or was she always like that? _That might be exhausting to deal with when the others aren’t around… But I’m glad she seems to be okay. _Folding the last of her clothes into the drawers, Peppermint went back out, making sure to lock up behind her.

The walk back to the city was a pleasant one. The first few roads she walked down were quiet without many people around, and the summer sun shone down brightly, a gentle breeze keeping the temperature comfortable. Once she arrived back at the square, she soon spotted Henry and Badger sat down at one of the tables and went to join them.

“She’s returned! Conqueror of the Triple-Fried!” Badger announced with a grin.

“Is that my title now?” Peppermint asked, taking a seat with them.

“Sure is. I wonder if Crusty Sean has a wall of fame. If not, he totally should.”

_It’s better than Subject One._ “Where are the others?”

“Still playing turf war. Lav’s taken a real shine to it,” Badger replied. “Henry wanted a break and I figured someone should keep him company but her ‘n Eight were having a real good time so I left ‘em to it.”

Peppermint looked over to Henry, and he nodded at their words in confirmation. “It’s fun, but tiring.”

Peppermint still found it odd that people _enjoyed_ turf war, but she supposed if you knew in advance that you would be fine even if splatted it wouldn’t be so bad. Her only experience was that first awful one immediately after she’d left the test centre, completely unaware of the recall systems and wholly believing she was about to die, and it left her utterly unwilling to go through anything similar again. Thinking back on it, it felt so long ago now. It had only been a couple of weeks since then, but so much had happened in that time. She’d come so far in finding out who she was. She felt like she knew herself, now. She knew her name, her age, the things she liked and disliked, the things she believed, the things she cared about. She still felt a little out of place - especially when people stared at her - but she wasn’t alone anymore. Badger, Eight, Pearl and Marina, they all knew about her, even the parts she had been so afraid of, and they were all accepting of her. Badger especially. Badger was so kind to her, so willing to be around her and not only accept but return her affections, that it didn’t just make her feel like it was alright for her to be here, but that she was actually _wanted_ here. Like just maybe, she might even belong.

“Um, Pep? You’re staring,” Badger said, the comment pulling her out of her thoughts. “Something on my face or something?”

Peppermint blinked in mild surprise, shaking her head slightly. “No, I just…” She scooted her chair around next to Badger’s and pulled them into her lap, hugging them. “...Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

Badger blushed slightly as Peppermint wrapped her arms around them, leaning against her. “Hey, it’s no big deal. I’ve just… I just want you to be alright.”

Peppermint leaned her head against Badger’s, closing her eyes. “I _am_ alright, thanks to you.”

They sat in quiet comfort for a while, enjoying the proximity. When Peppermint opened her eyes again, she realised Henry was watching them. Badger seemed to notice too, and they spoke up.

“What’s on your mind?” they asked.

“You look happy together,” he said. “I think… I think I’m a bit jealous.”

“I guess we have gotten pretty close,” Badger said, and Peppermint heard a hint of embarrassment in their voice. They chuckled slightly before continuing. “All you gotta do is find someone to help you through a breakdown then almost die with ‘em, then you’ll be just like us in no time.”

“That sounds… unpleasant,” Henry said, furrowing his brow.

“Them’s the breaks if you wanna bond quickly, I guess,” Badger replied. “Hardship fosters community or whatever.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, and eventually Eight and Lavender came out of the lobby and joined them. When Eight saw Badger and Peppermint together, she seemed to smile a little more broadly, but said nothing. Lavender seemed much the same as ever, bounding over to them.

“Turf war is really fun! You should join in too,” she said excitably, digging in her pockets and brandishing a small handful of cash. “You get money for it, too! Now I can buy things.”

“Um, I’m alright, thanks,” Peppermint replied. “I don’t really like it…”

“Oh, what? Okay. We can find other things to do!”

“We may finish the showing around the city?” Eight suggested.

“Ooh! Let’s do that!” Lavender agreed, turning to her excitably. “Oh. I’m a bit hungry, though. I could use a snack.”

“You already burned off all that schwaffle?” Badger asked. “I’m… actually, I can believe that.”

“It is fine, there are shops on the way,” Eight said. “We were at the park when we stopped before, yes?”

“Mm-hmm!”

“Speaking of food…” Peppermint let go of Badger, allowing them to stand and following suit. “I should get some for my flat…”

“You should,” Badger agreed. “We could go do that while they go on their tour with Eight if you want.”

“Mm. Let’s do that.”

“Oh, you will not come with us?” Eight asked.

“We’ll catch up later,” Badger replied. “I’ll send you a text when we’re done and you can let me know where you are to find you.”

“Okay. See you then!” Eight waved and led the way out of the square, Lavender beside her and Henry following behind.

“I’d better drop my roller off at home if we’re gonna be carrying groceries,” Badger said. “Wanna come with?”

“Sure.”

“Neat. Dad’s gonna be at work at this time but Mum’s probably at home by now.” Badger started walking, taking a route in the opposite direction to where Eight and the others had gone. “It’s not super far from here, it’s really convenient.”

_Oh. Parents are a thing._ Peppermint followed alongside them, curious. “What’s having parents like?”

Badger looked up at her briefly. “Um… I’m not really sure how to describe that…” They furrowed their brow in concentration as they turned back to watch where they were going, quiet for a moment. “I never really thought about it. I’m so used to thinking of that as normal.”

“Oh.”

Badger thought as they walked along. “I mean… it’s probably different for everyone, since everyone has different parents and all. I can only say what my parents are like. My mum’s really… she’s lovely, don’t get me wrong, but it gets a little overbearing sometimes. Like, come on, I’m nineteen now, I don’t need her babying me anymore. It’s like she thinks I’m still a kid or something, and that’s annoying, but it’s also nice to know she cares so much, and I know she’d always help me if I did need it. My dad… I don’t really see so much of. He works pretty late and sometimes has to go to other countries on business trips. He’ll bring back gifts and stuff, but he’s not really there most of the time. And then because he’s never around I’m not sure he really actually knows me… It’s kind of awkward when he’s got holiday and we actually do get to spend time together.”

“Oh.”

“Families are kind of a mixed bag, I guess. You get some that are really awful. Mine’s not bad, though. Not perfect, but hey, we all care about each other and get along. I guess you’ll get to see a bit when we get there.” Badger paused slightly as they turned down another street. “Um, by the way, when we do get in… please don’t mention any of the agent stuff or the test centre or anything. I haven’t told them about that.”

“Oh. Okay,” Peppermint replied. “Why not?”

“Mum will worry way more than necessary, and it’s meant to be a secret anyway, since if the general public knew there was a threat they’d panic ‘n stuff.”

“Okay…” Peppermint wasn’t sure if lying about that was right, but could understand the reasoning. She felt if someone she cared about was doing something dangerous she would at least want to be aware of it, though. “What did you say about your eye, then?”

“I told her I’d already been to see a doctor and it was a rare condition that some people get that doesn’t do anything bad, it just makes you discoloured in patches,” Badger explained. “I guess, um… You’ll have to tell her you got the same thing but really bad if she asks. Also… I haven’t, um, told her about my pronouns yet either, so… if you could use the old ones around her that’d be great.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

They weren’t walking for much longer before Badger stopped outside one of the houses, pulling out some keys. “Here we are.”

As they opened the door, Peppermint could hear music playing throughout the house, and the sound of someone singing along. Badger headed into the house, turning through a doorway on the right. Peppermint followed them in, immediately getting a whiff of that familiar mothball smell. Going through the same doorway, she saw it led to a kitchen, and inside was an older inkling, fairly short with long pale pink hair, the owner of the voice singing along.

“Back for a sec. Mum, this is Peppermint. Pep, this is my mum, Viola,” Badger said.

Viola stopped singing as she turned from the counter, looking at Peppermint and seeming caught off guard for a moment. She quickly recovered though, smiling and offering a hand to shake. “Peppermint! A pleasure to meet you. Badger mentioned having made a new friend. I’m glad you’re getting along with my girl.”

Peppermint shook her hand awkwardly, not sure what to say. “Um… Hi.”

Badger rolled their eyes. “You make it sound like I’m five or something. Anyway, I’m just putting this upstairs, then we’re going again.” They quickly excused themself from the room, and Peppermint heard them make their way upstairs, left alone with Viola. The inkling glanced up at her again, smiling gently.

“It really is a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “Badger’s always struggled with making friends, so I’m glad to see her coming out of her shell a bit more. How did you meet, was it a support group or something?”

“Support group?” Peppermint echoed.

“For the skin condition. What was it called again?”

“Uh…” Peppermint wracked her brain, looking for any viable answer. The seconds ticked by as she came up with nothing, an awkward uncertainty welling in her stomach.

“You’re… not very good when put on the spot, are you?” Viola asked with a slightly amused smile, but it quickly fell as she sighed. “I’ve had the feeling Badger’s not telling me everything for a while now. And she doesn’t have to, but… I do wish she’d be honest with me, with the things she does tell me.”

Peppermint felt her face flush with heat, embarrassed at her mistake. _Oh no. I hope this isn’t going to make trouble for them…_ “I think… Badger just doesn’t want you worrying too much.”

“Does that mean it _is _something I should worry about?”

_Oh no… _Peppermint blushed further at having made it worse. “N-no, it’s… it really isn’t anything like that…” Thinking rapidly, she tried to come up with a way to patch up the conversation. Well, if they were only talking about the discoloration right now… “I mean, um, look at me. I’ve got it all over and always have but I’m fine.”

“Is that so?” Viola cocked an eyebrow, seeming not entirely convinced. “Well, if I were hearing it from anyone, I’d rather it be from her anyway. At least you’re a good enough friend to be respecting her privacy.”

That word kept cropping up. Friend. Was that what it was? Peppermint wasn’t quite sure of her grasp of social language, but she had a feeling it didn’t quite fit. Lots of people were friends, she had heard and seen plenty of people coming into the shop chatting and getting along as friends, but she hadn’t really seen people display a closeness quite the same as what she had with Badger. She might say Eight was her friend, or maybe soon Lavender and Henry too, but was there something to distinguish a stronger bond? Or was her interpretation of the word incorrect?

“What exactly is a friend?” she asked.

Viola looked up at her curiously. “That’s a question with a lot of variation. Different people will have different answers. Why, is that not what Badger is to you?”

“I don’t know…”

“Then what _is_ Badger to you?”

Peppermint paused thoughtfully. “Badger… helps me feel better when nothing else does. And makes me feel like I’m not alone. And like there’s a place for me here… When things have been hardest for me lately, Badger’s always been there to help me. And I feel like if I have her help, then nothing will be too hard. So Badger is…” She trailed off, feeling a little embarrassed about the words in her mind. She didn’t have any other phrasing that seemed accurate, though. “Badger is like a light in the dark. If she’s here, I can always keep going.”

A smile grew across Viola’s face as Peppermint spoke, and when she was done, the inkling looked fit to bursting with pride. “My little darling has really done so much for you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“As her mother, nothing could make me happier. My sweet little Badger, putting such good into the world!” She let out a happy sigh. “But those thoughts of yours. Is that all… platonic, then? Or not?”

“I… don’t know…”

Peppermint paused as she heard the sound of someone on the stairs again and turned to see Badger come back into the kitchen, and Viola quickly swept them up in a tight hug, pressing a kiss to their forehead.

“My darling, I am _so proud _of you, do you know that?” she said, beaming.

“Eh?” Badger looked confused, but hugged her back regardless. “Um, sure? What’s the deal?”

“Peppermint’s just been telling me how much you’ve helped her, is all. Look at you! Not just making friends, but being such a wonderful person. Or…” Viola looked up brightly at Peppermint as she let go of Badger. “Well, in any case, you said you were heading out again, didn’t you?”

“Yep. I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun!”

Badger hummed along quietly to the music as they left the house and began walking back to the city centre, and Peppermint saw Viola wave to them through the kitchen window and returned the gesture.

“She seems nice…”

“Yeah, she is,” Badger agreed. “She’s just kinda too much sometimes.”

“Um… She did ask me about it…” Peppermint began awkwardly. “I didn’t know what to say…”

“You mean the, uh. ‘Skin condition’?”

“Mm… She asked me what it was called and I couldn’t think of anything… I think she knew it wasn’t true.”

Badger sighed. “I’m not surprised. She didn’t really seem like she bought it when I told her before. Don’t worry about it.”

Peppermint felt her insides squirm uncomfortably. It still felt like it was her fault. “Sorry…”

“Hey, I said don’t worry about it, didn’t I?” Badger put one hand on her arm, rubbing their thumb over it gently. “It’s chill.”

Badger showed her the way to a big shop nearby, full of tall aisles stocked with all kinds of food. They went all around it, picking up ingredients for various meals and supplies for breakfast and snacks. When she saw sugar on the shelves, she immediately picked some up, smiling broadly. _Sheldon can’t stop me from eating cake if he isn’t there._

“I’m not sure I trust how much you’re grinning right now,” Badger said. “Are you gonna actually use that for something or just eat it as it is?”

“...I was only planning on using it for baking,” Peppermint replied. “But now that you’ve suggested it…”

“Pep, don’t do that,” Badger said exasperatedly, but they were smiling amusedly.

“Cake is probably better anyway,” she said.

“If I come over and find you’ve only been eating sugary junk, you’re gonna be in trouble,” Badger warned.

“What kind of trouble?”

“Hmm… No hugs if you don’t eat well.”

“What!?” Peppermint looked down at Badger, mortified.

“That’s the deal. Hey, do you even know how to cook much?”

“Yes. I always cooked for myself at the test centre. Except I think when I was really young, but I don’t really remember…”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense. Anyway, you gotta maintain a healthy diet.”

“I _know…_”

They finished going around the shop and picking up what they needed, and Badger helped carry everything back to her flat. Heading to the kitchen, they put everything away, the task soon completed between the two of them.

“Alright, that’s everything, I think,” Badger said as they closed the cupboards.

An idea struck, and Peppermint grinned mischievously. “Not quite.” Leaning down, she picked Badger up for a hug, as she had before in Ammo Knights. “Where should I keep _you_?”

Badger sputtered wordlessly, a blue stain rising on their face. Peppermint grinned, pressing her forehead to theirs and closing her eyes contentedly. Holding Badger close, she could feel their rapid heart rates against her chest. Tense, they slowly relaxed, wrapping their arms around her. Peppermint hummed a happy note, then went to sit down on the sofa, settling with Badger in her lap. “I think this is the perfect spot.”

Badger’s face remained deeply coloured, muttering something quietly.

“Hmm?” Peppermint asked, not quite hearing.

“...Eight’s right. You’re mean.”

“How so?”

“...Ngh…” Badger said nothing more, hiding their face against her shoulder. Peppermint brought a hand up to stroke their hair, leaning her head against theirs.

“When we were at yours, Viola asked me about… if how I felt about you is platonic or not,” she said, slowly, thoughtfully. “And I still don’t really know. I don’t really understand the distinction. Maybe I will, later, when I understand people and social stuff more. But right now, all I do know for sure… is that being with you makes me happier than anything else. And being close, together, like this… feels like the best thing.”

“...Same here,” Badger said quietly, hugging her a little tighter.

“Do you know, then?” Peppermint asked.

“Hmm?”

“If it’s the same for you. Do you know what those feelings are? If they’re platonic, romantic or…”

Badger shook their head slightly, letting out a quiet huff. “If it isn’t glaringly obvious what mine are by now, you really _do _have a lot to learn…”

“If you know, then tell me. I want to know, too.”

Badger didn’t respond right away, taking a moment to think. “...Naw, I don’t think I should. I think you should come to that conclusion on your own. I mean… I’m not trying to just make it harder for you or anything… It’s just… I want whatever you do with those feelings to be _your _decision, not influenced by anything else. I want you to do what _you _want to do.”

Peppermint thought over their words. “...I don’t understand. What would you telling me have to do with what I want to do?”

“I just don’t think I should be telling you how you feel. I don’t reckon that’s right. They’re _your_ feelings, so it’s for you to define, not me. As soon as you know the right definitions, I guess.”

Peppermint sighed, leaning further back against the sofa. “...Okay. I trust your judgement.”

Badger shifted slightly on her lap, getting more comfy. A pleasant quiet fell between them and Peppermint closed her eyes, reveling in the emotional warmth that spread through her whenever she held Badger close and the physical one from their shared heat. She could still feel their heart beats against her, steadier now, calmer. It was a comfortable feeling. Focusing on that, she felt she could happily sit here like this forever.

She was beginning to doze off when Badger’s phone went off, the noisy vibration making them both jump slightly. They pulled it out of their pocket and looked at the screen.

“Oh. Right. We said we’d meet up with the others after,” they said.

“Aww. I don’t wanna move…”

Badger chuckled slightly. “Understandable. We shouldn’t just brush ‘em off, though. That’d be rude.”

“I _guess…_” Peppermint agreed reluctantly, but made no motion to move, maintaining her hold on Badger.

“C’mon. I told her we’d go meet up, we shouldn’t keep ‘em waiting.” Badger sat up, and Peppermint slowly let go, freeing them from her grasp. The two of them stood and made their way outside. Walking alongside Badger as they led the way, Peppermint looked down at them.

“You said you wanted me to do what I want, right?”

Badger looked up at her, nodding. “Yeah. Why?”

“Because… I want to do this.” Peppermint slowly reached down and took Badger’s hand in her own, blushing slightly as she intertwined their fingers.

Badger smiled gently as a mild blue dusted their own cheeks. “That’s just fine with me.” They scratched at the back of their neck bashfully with their free hand as they looked once more to the path ahead of them. “Now let’s go find our friends, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Turning her gaze up to the blue summer sky, Peppermint smiled up at the warm sun. Right here, right now, it didn’t just feel like things were going to be okay. It felt like things were going to be _good._ It was a comforting feeling, bright and hopeful - and she found herself hoping everyone felt it.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... that brings us to the end of piperidine!! there's still plenty more for me to write about yet though, and indeed i do already have a sequel in the works. a big thank u to everyone who's come along this far, everyone who's left kudos or comments especially, every one brightens my day... any feedback and constructive criticism is always super appreciated!! this story is special to me personally since it's the first big personal project i've ever actually Finished, and to know others enjoy it as well is super wonderful. there's also a very brief epilogue that'll be out immediately after this too... i expect it'll be a while before i finish lone pair, but i'll drop a few other bits and bobs in the Supplemints series here and there in the meantime. i hope it's been a fun ride!! thank u all again!!


	25. Epilogue

Peppermint stretched as she woke up, yawning slightly and wiping the sleep from her eyes. Looking out the window, it was bright out, and she had no idea what time it was. She still needed to go and buy a clock. She seemed to be arriving at work early rather than late though, so it just went towards paying off the tenta brella she’d lost. Maybe after that was done she’d get a phone, those seemed to have clocks built in. Then she could start having lie ins when she had extra time in the morning, if she could actually tell just how much extra time it was.

Pulling herself up out of bed, she got dressed and wandered through to the kitchen. Lavender was still asleep on the sofa bed when she passed on her way, so Peppermint tried to maintain quietness as she prepared breakfast, closing the kitchen door before putting bread in the toaster, frying an egg to have with it and standing by the counter to eat. Once done, she slipped back through the sitting room, getting her boots and preparing to leave. Lavender didn’t stir, so presumably she hadn’t woken her. Heading out of the flat, Peppermint locked up before pushing her set of keys through the letterbox so Lavender would be able to go out during the day. She knew to be home by the time Peppermint returned to let her in, or if not then to meet her at Ammo Knights.

Turning away from the door, she spotted just before turning to leave an inkling coming from the door further down the corridor, next to her flat. She felt like she recognised her from somewhere. Short and chubby with green shoulder length tentacles and tan skin, Peppermint was certain she’d seen her before, but couldn’t place where. The inkling finished locking their door and went to walk down the corridor, seeing her as she looked up.

“Oh! It’s you!” She blinked, surprised slightly, before smiling. “Hi again, do you remember me? We met at the lobby that one time.”

“The lobby?” Peppermint echoed, thinking back. That was right – this was one of the inklings who had been there after her mishaps in that one turf war match she tried. “Oh… I remember, yeah.”

“Did you end up moving in here?”

Peppermint nodded.

“Wow, small world! Guess we’re neighbours now. I’m Izzy, I think I said before but it was such a brief chat I doubt you remember.”

“Um… Nice to meet you. Or… Meet you again? Thank you, for last time,” Peppermint said. “I’m Peppermint.”

“That’s such a cute name! And don’t worry about it, I barely did anything,” Izzy said cheerfully, before huffing slightly. “Honestly, I was worried Cain would go too far again with that boy, but thankfully they didn’t…” She rolled her eyes, then shifted the backpack she was carrying slightly and walking towards the stairs. “You heading out? Which way are you going?”

“Towards the lobby…” Peppermint walked with her to the door, a little curious about her. Izzy had been kind to her before, and didn’t seem to stare at her in the same way others did.

“Darn, that’s the opposite way to me,” Izzy said with a slight sigh as they stepped outside. “We’ll have to catch up some other time, I have to get to work. It was nice seeing you again, though!”

“Mm.”

Izzy waved to her before turning to walk down the road away from the city centre. Peppermint began her walk to work, thoughtful. She hadn’t thought about if she ever expected to see Izzy again or not, but it was a pleasant surprise. Maybe she should do something to give proper thanks for her help at the lobby before, and find out how to find Cain to thank them, too. Maybe she could bake something for them both. It had only been a couple of weeks since the first time she met them, but it still felt like it had been a while. Reconnecting with people was on odd thought to her – maybe since she’d known no-one for so long, so the idea of any variety of connection was lost then. Even so, she found herself curious. Who else might she see again? Was it a common thing, out in populated society?

Curious to this new concept she’d never considered before, she decided she’d have to ask Badger about it. She wondered what other kinds of reconnections there might be – it had been amiable with Izzy, but she imagined if she saw splatling-boy again that wouldn’t be nearly so pleasant an experience. Contemplating this as she walked, she felt she understood a little better Lavender’s enthusiasm for her studies more focused on people. She didn’t know any of the people she passed in the street, but who did they know? Who might they have seen before and forgotten about for now?

Arriving at Ammo Knights, she soon set about helping Sheldon ready the shop for opening. There were already a couple of weapons needing her attention for repairs from the previous day – her questions would have to be set aside for now.


End file.
